I'll Try To Fix You
by mpkio2
Summary: Kyle and Cartman are nothing to each other... not even friends. But when both have dreams that the other will die and in the process hang out with each other to protect one-another, will they start to develop feelings for each other? KyCart. Rated T
1. Everyday Is The Same

**A/N:**

**Hello fellow South Park fans. **

**Well, you must of clicked on this fanfic story if you're a fan of KyCart (KylexCartman) or if your just a little curious.**

**Yes, this is my first South Park fanfic and my first KyCart (KylexCartman or CartmanxKyle, depends on who you like on top. XD), so please be nice. Thank You.**

**Please Read and enjoy! :)**

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**Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE......CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE......THAT MEANS YOU!**

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"_**When I reached the edge of the earth, I realized I was missing something.......my enemy."**_

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**I'll Try To Fix You**

**Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 1**

**Everyday Is The Same**

Everyday is the same.....

Same people, same conversations, same lessons, same friends, same red-neck town, same problems, and the same asshole I have had to endure in my entire life. But you would think I would have gotten used to this by now, huh? Wrong. Incorrect. Mistaken, you are.

My alarm clock buzzes, signalling for me to wake up, get dressed, have a wash, eat breakfast, make petty talk with my mom, go to school and endure being terrorized by that fat asshole. I click the "Snooze" button and pull the covers other my head, completely cover my big red hair.

This is my favourite time of the day; the minutes before you wake up and face another day filled with constant Jew jokes, my mom-is-an-ugly-skank jokes and having to see that intolerant asshole right in my face. I lay my head down further on my pillows, my eyelids shutting close and softness of my mattress. This was just pure bliss and I wished it could last for all eternality. But, alas, all great things must end......

After no more than two minutes, I could hear my dad's yelling's, telling me to wake up and go to school, saying that I was lazy for having an extra two minutes in bed. Like he can talk!! He doesn't know what it's like to be me, having to work no stop to have top grades out every student in my class, no thanks to my mom's nagging to "Study, buballa! Study, and maybe you won't end up like your uncle Larry!" Yeah....he didn't no shit.

But no matter how much my body wished to stay where it was, I somehow took control over my body and forced myself to get ready for another awful day at South Park Middle School, where students found it necessary to follow a crowd, be a total douche bag and not be themselves......what idiotic fools. If I had to define Middle School in words, I would say "Middle School, noun, a jail for teenagers between the ages of 13-14 to be socially categorized by the mere system that us as human beings work by," Yeah, that's Middle School alright.

I go to the bathroom and wash my face. I return to my bedroom, slam the door ("Don't slam the door, buballa!" my mom shouts), get undressed, put on a pair of navy blue jeans, a white t-shirt, my orange jacket, and my old green hat fits over my red hair, neatly. I grab hold of my schoolbag, unzip it, check if I had all of my school utensils, swing it over my right shoulder, exit my room and descended the school stairs, as quietly as possible; I could do without another of my mom's interrogative speeches.......

"Kyle," a stern voice demands as I reach the last step. Crap......

"Yes, mom," I reply as I turn to face my mom, standing in the doorframe of the kitchen.

"Did you do all of your math homework last night?" It had been like this for the past year or so. My mom would thoroughly enforce me to complete all of my homework and study everyday when I returned from school. Checking if I had done my homework was only the first stage......

"Yes, mom," I reply trying to keep the dullness attitude out of my voice. The same thing everyday.........

"Let me have a look, Kyle," This is stage two; the check. I swing my schoolbag onto the floor, unzip it and hand my mom my homework. She glances at it with calculating eyes. After about a minute or two my mom slams the book shut and hands me my book. Her expression says nothing.

"Well......mom?" I ask tentivly, not knowing what to make out of that reaction; she was very scary when she was like this. "Did I do well?"

My mom turns her back to me and says in a firm voice: "Come straight back home after school, Kyle; you need to study,"

And with that, I leave my house feeling confused and scared.

--

"Don't be so stupid, fatass!"

"It's true! I know it is, pussy!"

"Cartman, you're so full of shit!"

"No, you are, Kenny! That's what you ate for dinner last night; shit Your family can't afford to buy any food so you that's what you ate!"

"Fuck you, fat lard!"

"Hey dudes," I say in a depressed voice as I reached the bus stop where Stan, Kenny and the asshole always stood, everyday, waiting for the school bus to arrive. Same thing everyday....."What are you guys arguing about?"

Stan and Kenny exchange nervous glances. Cartman, on the other hand, looks as if Christmas has come early. What was the asshole so happy about? Did his mom stop sleeping around with other random men?

"Oh," Cartman said in a delightful voice. "I'll tell you, Kahl," His eyes glint with a devious happiness......I really do hate him. "When the time is right,"

"Just tell me, you sadistic asshole!" I shout angrily in return. He smiles broadly in return.

"I don't think so, Kahl," he says as he smile broadens.....that evil, happy smile......God! "You'll know in time,"

OK, now he really was pissing me off......but I wasn't going to let him have that satisfaction.

"Wait, why am I asking you for?" I ask as I point at the sadist. "I can just ask Stan and Kenny!"

Stan and Kenny make uncomfortable movements when both their names were mentioned.

"Stan?" I look at my best friend. His raven black hair was a mess, as it always was. His black eyes didn't look into mine. "What were you guys arguing about?"

But Stan didn't say a word.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He couldn't even tell his best friend what it was about?

"Kenny?" Kenny's golden hair that fell all over his head shone brilliantly in the sun light. He looked at me and said:

"Err....oh....I-I forgot something back at home," Kenny started to walk away in a slow pace. "See ya guys at school," And he moved faster away until he was gone.

"Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on!" I shout at both people who were left at the bus stop with me.

Stan diverted his eyes. Cartman smiled, evilly.

My hatred for him grew......

--

The day had been as I predicted it to be; completely awful. No, worse than awful; total fucking shit. Not only was Stan and Kenny ignoring me throughout the day, the fat piece of shit that had no life whatsoever, kept on smiling at me, deviously throughout the day, and when I confronted the piece of shit, here mere said: "You'll find out soon enough, Kahl. You'll find out soon enough,"

--

I had him now. I had that stinky Jew rat exactly where I wanted him. Boy, this was goanna be so sweet. I couldn't wait to see the look on his face......the feeling of me licking the tears of his face......awesome.

After everyone had heard this, no-one in the entire school would dare talk to Kyle again. He would be so sad, and I would be so happy.

After everyone heard this, Kyle would wish he was dead......

--

I walked home by myself feeling angry and tired.

Stan still hadn't talked to me all day, and I hadn't even seen Kenny at school (He was probably with Tammy getting a BJ or something).

It started to snow as I walked down the street and I cursed. I put my hand in pockets to keep myself warm. I needed that; warmth. I doubt I would find it when I open the front door of my house.

I reach my front door and I put my hand on the handle. I turn it and the coldness reaches my face in an instant.

"Kyle!" My mom shouts as I enter the house. "Just exactly where have you been, bubulla!? Your half an hour late," I sigh. The fat piece of lard just had to make me mad in English, Mr. Garrison then choosing to give me attention.

"I-I insisted on staying at school to finish my work," I lied hoping my mom would take it. "You know, mom; I want to complete all my work," My mom had a weird look on her face. I then felt her eyes scanning my body, as if detecting something.

"Fine," she said. "Just go upstairs and start studying,"

I didn't take a second to do as she instructed for me to do. I was up in my room like a shot. I knew she would be up any moment to make sure I was studying, so I took out my books and put them on my desk. Just as I was about to sit and study, I cell phone started to vibrate. I took it out and read what it said on the screen:

--

_One message from:  
Stan_

--

Wait.....Stan had sent me a text? He was talking to me again? Why? Herat thumping, I clicked on the centre button to open up the message. Four words were on the screen:

--

_We need to talk_

--

Everyday is the same.....except for this one.

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**A/N:**

**Yay! First chapter is done!**

**Sorry if this chapter is a little rusty.**

**If you have a question, just ask.**

**Reviews are most appreciated! :)**


	2. In The Dark

**A/N:**

**Apologies for not updating frequently. I've been pretty busy with life in general and all that shit. **

**Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews, fav alerts and story alerts. It all means a lot to me.**

**BTW, this is not a remake of any other story on this site! It is all my original idea.**

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**Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE......CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE......THAT MEANS YOU!**

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"**I'm in the dark again.....and I need your shinning light for guidance,"**

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**I'll Try To Fix You**  
**Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 2  
In The Dark**

I can't believe what I had just heard my best friend ask me. Where the hell did he get the idea I was like that? Had he assumed I was like that due to the fact I hadn't once had a girlfriend? I just can't believe he asked me that question! That question! My best friend asking me that question! I mean.....what the fuck? He could probably hear the shock in my voice when I answered with a shaky:

"No!"

"Oh," I heard him reply in a quiet voice through the speaker of my cell phone. I had only phoned Stan five minutes after seeing his text on my phone. I now wish I never even bothered.

"Who told you such a thing?" I ask hoping Stan could hear the anger in my voice.

"Oh.....Well, Clyde told me...." The statement sounded like there was more to be said. It sounded like someone had told Clyde, who told someone, who told someone else, you know, like one of those stupid rumours that spread around a school like wild fire burning tree to tree in a forest that was the educational building.

I breathe deeply trying to calm myself and think this rationally. If Clyde was the one who started this stupid rumour......if he was the one that motivated my best friend to, unintentionally, ask me that question.....why would he start it? I never did anything to him, nothing intentionally, of course.

"Kyle?" I hear Stan ask. "Kyle? You there?" I shake my head, trying to stop my train of thought travelling along the tracks in my head.

"Yeah," I reply, my voice still a little shaken. "I just don't understand why Clyde would start a rumour like that!" I sigh. "I mean, just because I haven't dated a lot of girls doesn't mean I'm...." For some odd reason, I found hard to say the word itself. "..You know, that, right?"

"Err....yeah, right," I wasn't satisfied with that response; it felt uncertain. It didn't sound authentic at all. He didn't think....no! Not my best friend, not Stan!

"Wait....." I say a little louder as I straighten myself up from my slouching position in my computer swivel chair. "You, believe me, don't you Stan?"

There was a very long and awkward pause on the other end of the line. For a whole minute I heard not a sound; this didn't look good for me. I could hear everything and I become consciously aware of my surroundings; the only source of light in my room (a lamp on my desk) and the rest of my room in complete darkness, the mess of papers that was scattered in front of me, a book "_A View From the Bridge_", opened in front of me, a sound of a car driving pass the house outside.....my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

"S-sure I do, Kyle," Stan in that hurtful voice, that uncertain voice. It didn't sound as if Stan intended for the voice to be hurtful, but to myself, it was. It really did hurt. "Let's just drop it,"

But I didn't want to drop it; I wanted to hear what Stan really wanted to say. "No, let's not," I say in a strong voice. "Your answer didn't sound convincing......" I trailed off, hinting that I didn't believe Stan for one minute.

"What do you want me to say, Kyle!" Stan said in an angry voice. There was a slight pause before he continued: "Do you want me to say 'I believe you'?"

"Yes!" I stop, realizing what I'm saying. "I mean, no!" I was really getting myself confused now. "I mean.....you didn't sound like you was telling me the truth!"

"I-I was!" But before Stan could say anything else, I cut in.

"There! You see!" I say in a triumphant voice, my free hand flung in the air. "There it is again; that unconvinced and stuttering voice!"

"So, you think there's something wrong with my voice, do you?" Stan's voice sounded as if he felt threatened by my remark; he was.

"No!" I shout angrily into the phone. I had never shouted so loudly at Stan in my life. "You're dismissing my first question all together, now!" There was a long pause. Neither of us said a word, each other's words sinking into our brains.

"I'm goanna hold up now," Stan said in a dark voice after a while of silence.

"Go ahead," I say in just as dark voice. "See if I care," I hear a low tone in my ear; he had hung up. And it wasn't the fact that he had hung up that hurt me so much; it was the fact that I did care.

I didn't bother getting into my PJ's. I was too low, too upset to do anything. I dragged my feet to my bed and plunked my body onto the hard mattress. I stared up at the ceiling, feeling as if it was about to collapse on top of me. I shut my eyes, not wanting to see the impact on my face or body for that matter. I took a deep breath when I feel the impact.....the impact of what myself and my best friend was arguing about:

My best friend believed I was gay.

--

I wasn't surprised not seeing Stan standing in his usual spot at the bus stop in the early morning of the next day. Kenny and Cartman was there as usual talking quietly with each other. However when I made my presence clear to them both by saying "Hey," in a low voice, they both cessed talking at once. I looked at, angrily.

"What!" I say looking at both of them with narrowed eyes. "What were you guys talking about!"

"Nothing you would find interesting, Kahl," Cartman (the asshole) said in a sweet sing-song voice. He really was pissing me off now......and he was hitting my limit.

"Tell me you fat turd!" I shout with pure venom. "I'm not in the mood for this shit, so tell me!"

The asshole looks at me square in the eyes and says:

"No," in a quiet voice, a small smile on his face,.

"Tell me-" But I was rudely cut off.

"Where's Stan?" Kenny asks as he put a piece of his blonde hair out of his face. "I thought he would be with you," Cartman smiled at this being said. Kenny had a small smile on his face as well, now that I looked closer.

"Me and Stan don't spend every minute with each other," I say staring daggers at both, Kenny and the asshole.

"Aww," Cartman says in a mocking sad voice. "I think it's cute that you're gay for Stan," He smiles broaden. Kenny holds back sniggers.

"Fuck off, Cartman," I say strongly trying not to turn pink in the face. "I don't even want to talk about Stan," I really wished the bus would arrive already so then I could get as far away from this asshole as possible.

"Ohh," Cartman said in a fake dramatic voice. "The fag and Stan had a fight!" He then proceeded to laugh.

"Cartman, I'm not gay for Stan!" I shout loudly, wishing the asshole would die there and then.

"That's not what I hear," Cartman says in a sing-song voice. "The whole school knows," I try to ignore his comment as the bus stops in front of the three of us. I get on board and sit at the back at the bus, away from Cartman. But as the vehicle started to move, I couldn't stop but think if Cartman's words had any truth in them.

--

As I open the doors to South Park Middle School, I was sadly disappointed to find that the asshole was, indeed correct. As I walked down the corridor, random students would whisper behind my back, point at me, snigger with their hands other their mouths, as if I couldn't see them at all.

My face grew red hot and I wished I could stop the blood flowing to my head. I even heard someone shout out "Fag!" as I walked further down the corridor. I desperately searched the swarm of students, looking for a boy with brown messy hair and titled as the "Cutest boy" of my class: Clyde Donovan.

The bell that signalled first period was heard throughout the corridor. Students left the corridor and entered their classroom, quickly.

I spotted Clyde half-way down the corridor at his locker with Token, Craig and Jimmy, laughing away at some joke Jimmy had just told (Undoubtfully, about me). My eyes locked at the back of his head as I approached the gang of friends. Craig was leaning against a locker next to Clyde's, his spotting my approach and tapped Clyde's shoulder and pointed directly at me, a glint in his eyes. Clyde turned to face me and so did Token and Jimmy. They looked pleased to see me.....

We were the only ones left in the corridor...

"Oh, look what we have here, guys," Craig announced. "It's gay boy," They all laughed.

"H-h-hey," Jimmy stuttered. "Don't turn around or he mi-mi-might fuck you in the ass," More sniggering was heard. My face reddened and my blood boiled.

"Can I have a word with you, Clyde," I asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep myself from murdering any of the boys. Clyde looked surprised.

"He doesn't want to talk to you, dick lover," Token said in a strong voice.

"Yeah," Craig agreed. "He-"

Clyde put his hand up, silencing Craig all at once. "It's fine, guys," he said, in his normal voice. "I'll be fine,"

With that said, Craig, Token and Jimmy left, leaving Clyde and myself in the corridor, alone.

"What do you want, fag?" Clyde asked in a dull voice. I tried not to attempt to punch him.

"I want to know who told you that stupid rumour about me," I asked in a controlled voice, my hair under my hat, up in the air.

"Why should I tell you, dickhole?" was the reply I received.

"I don't need to justify my reasons to you!" I say in response as I point at him. "Just tell me,"

Clyde sighed. "I can't tell you,"

My eyebrows rise and my face turns in to a face of confusion. "Why not?"

Clyde turns around and faces his back to me. He gets his copy of "_A View From The Bridge_" from his locker, stuffs into in to his backpack, zips his backpack up, closes his locker door, and face me again. "I was paid,"

And he starts to walk away as he says "I'm sorry,".

I want to know who started this rumour about me....no, I need to know! Who the hell did they think they were! I want to know but......is paying money to Clyde really worth it? Do I want to know it that much? I think the answer in my head: yes.

I have fifty bucks in my backpack.....but I'm suppose to use it to buy a new study book that my mom wants me to buy; she expects me to have it when I return home.

"Wait!" I shout out. Clyde stops and faces me. "If I give you twenty-five bucks, will you tell me?" Maybe he will take it. I mean, twenty-five bucks sounds like it enough to buy a study book, doesn't it?

"Fifty," Clyde says as my heart sinks. "Then I will tell you,"

I can't spend the money on anything else but a study book; my mom will kill me.

"Just_ a study book and _only_ a study book, Kyle_," I hear her serious voice in my head.

"Deal or no deal?" Clyde says flatly. I can hear my heart beat in my eardrum. The walls are closing in.....

A dead silence fills the corridor, the space between myself and Clyde, greater.

The darkness had me where it wanted me, and I am stuck.

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**A/N:**

**So, will Kyle pay up to know who started the rumour about him even though it's not his money to spend?**

**Let me know in a review! **

**Thanks! :)**


	3. The Best Day Of My Life

**A/N:**

**Yeah, I know you don't wanna hear the same old and cliché "I'm sorry I haven't updated in for like ever...blah blah....been busy with coursework and college work and...blah blah...." (In other words, information that you won't find interesting) But, unfortunately, it has to be said. I'll just say it in a shorthanded way:**

"**I'm sorry I haven't updated because I've got so much work to do and working on other shit.....and I'm such a lazy asshole".**

**There. Hopefully that sums it all up. :)**

**Anyway, after the longest wait of all time, here is Chapter 3, ready for your reading pleasure.**

**I would also like to thank everyone who has reviewed and put this story on their favs and story alert. (I bet it was a surprise when you saw the story alert in your e-mail! lol) Also, thank you to everyone who has watched the trailer to this fanfic on YouTube and all the positive comments that have been left.**

**To watch Both trailers for "I'll Try To Fix You", please go to the links below:**

"**I'll Try To Fix You" Trailer 1 (Ft. Music From Coldplay):  
http://www. youtube. com/watch?v=Nbhditn-fxU (Get rid of the gaps!)**

"**I'll Try To Fix You" Trailer 2 (Ft. Music From Sigur Ros):  
http://www. youtube. com/watch?v=BAD92UdIGWY (Get rid of the gaps!)**

**I'm gonna stop now before this A/N becomes longer than the chapter.**

**Sorry about spelling and grammar mistakes!**

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**Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE......CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE......THAT MEANS YOU!**

* * *

"**Today is the greatest day of my life!  
But…will I need you when I'm lonely?"**

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**I'll Try To Fix You**  
**Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 3  
Best Day Of My Life**

Today was like the best day of my life.; it was so awesome.

I hadn't seen that sneaky little Jew all day; I didn't see him in any of my lessons, which was a shock because he attended every single lesson no matter what, even if he had a cold.

I bet if he was told that the school had burnt down to a crisp he would still turn up the next day, ready to be a little know-it all nerd (Doesn't he understand that school is boring!?).

And that know-it all voice of his, and how he carries his books all other the school, and reads a book (Yes, you heard me, "read" a fucking book for Christ sake!) at lunch time, his sneaky know-it all comments and criticizing me, telling me that I said the wrong answer to Mr. Garrison when he picked on me to tell him what was the Capital of England in Geography (How the fuck would I know that! I'm not French and I don't drink tea like a little gay fag!).*

"The answer is London," he said in that annoying, smirking voice of his, flashing me a smirk and a smile of pride. "If you would pay attention in class, you would know that, Cartman,"

No-way I was going to let that Jew make me look like an idiot in front of the whole class. "Shut up, Kyle!" I had shouted. "Shut your goddamn Jew mouth!" And was sent to the principal's office!

Do you fucking see? It's him who's the one who always makes me angry, make me look bad and shit, even though everyone knows I'm like so cool….and popular…and smart…..and stuff like that.

I bet he likes making me angry. I bet that little Jew loves it so much. I bet even fantasizes of me being up on a cross and then stabbing me with a knife with all his Jew little friends. Goddamn Jews; always something they have to kill if they don't agree completely with it. Mel Gibson was so right about them.

Anyway, enough about all that shit, that was then and this is now, and the end of the best day of my life; I whole day with a Kyle, the Jew.

Where was I?.....Oh yeah, didn't see him in the corridors walking with his books, didn't even see him at lunch sitting with Stan at the table, which was also another shock (But a good shock!) Stan looked miserable, but I didn't really care to ask cause I was having such an awesome day.

I bet Kyle was crying in the boys bathroom like the little sissy pussy he is. Ha ha ha! I wish I was there to see him cry; I would have been taking pictures, putting them up on Facebook, drinking those hot tears of his, savoring them in my mouth; It might have been better than him sucking my balls, like a little bitch. (Which he still has to do, might I add! Agh!)

But Kyle wasn't even in the boys bathroom. I had my camera ready and when I entered the boys bathroom, I heard no pussy crying, no wailing, no "My life is ruined! Everyone knows I' gay for Stan! Cartman was always right!", nothing. All I found was Butters pissing and saying "Hey, Eric!" in a happy voice. I, of course, replied with "Not now gayward; I'm busy," I think Butters said "OK!", but I'm not sure cause I was checking under the cubicles for Kyle's feet. (Don't get any thoughts now, you assholes! I'm not gay!). After I saw that Kyle was nowhere to be found, I went back to class.

We had some History essay and I got a B plus! No freaking way, dude! It was my first B of my whole time in school! It was about the Holocaust and the Jews (Which I knew everything about). Everyone was shocked, and even Mr. Garrison. If only Kyle was there, if only. I would have shoved my grade into his face and sing: "Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah! I got a B+! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" When I see Kyle again, I swear I'm gonna be in heaven!

And now, here I am. Walking back home with a moppy Stan and a quite Kenny. God I hate these guys! There never any fun when that Jews not about. They've been like this all day; quite and not talking a lot (Well, Kenny tried to hit up on Bebe and tried to take pictures of her boobs on his phone, but that doesn't count). I don't even know what their problem is; can't they see how awesome it is without Kyle!? Are they that retarded and blind!? I'm way to cool for them….

"Wasn't today awesome, you fags!?" I say in a cheerful voice. I was so over the moon with….ecstasy…yeah. "Without Kyle around, our life's are so much better, aren't they?"

Stand didn't say a word and Kenny only muttered something I didn't hear properly. Their so boring!

"Little Jew wasn't around to make us like bad, call us bad names, wasn't around to make things all Jewwy and gay," I say as we continue to walk through the snow. They don't say anything to me, again, and I was starting to get pissed off with them ignoring me.

"It as the best day ever! Probably better than the day when Hitler came to power!" They still don't reply to me, not a single word. I thought at least Stan would tell me to stop saying whatever I say (Which is the truth!). I would have though Kenny would have rolled his eyes, but he didn't. That's it!

I go ahead in front of Stan, forcing hi to stop walking and collide right in front of me, face him, grab him by his shoulders, and say in a fierce voice:

"What the hell is wrong with you, Stan!?" He looks up with me with eyes of…sadness I guess…whatever; it was an emotion I hardly experienced. "Why are you ignoring me!?"

Stan just huffed and looked down pathetically.

"And you!" I point a finger at Kenny, who had stopped to the side. "Why aren't you talking about all the girls you hit up on in one day!?"

Kenny looks at me and says:

"I'm trying to concentrate on the girls on my phone, douchbag," Kenny lifts up his cell phone and shows me the screen; pictures of naked girls.

"Yeah…..I know that, you piece of shit!" I say as a comeback, trying to cover my tracks. How could I not notice he had a phone in his hands?

Kenny rolls his eyes, and pulls back the bangs of blonde hair that rested near his forehead.

I look back to Stan, but I discovered that he was gone. I turn round and I see him trudging away through the snow. Kenny also notices this, I think, for me and him ran after Stan.

"Hey!" I shout once I reach his side. "I was talking to you, dickward!"

"Just shut up, fatass!" Stan shouts back, angrily. "I don't wanna speak to you,"

"I bet you wanna speak to that gay Jew of yours," I say, as I flash a devious smile on my face. My voice was livid with menace. This was way too funny!

"Don't even speak about Kyle!" Stan yells, not even looking at me.

"Why?" I ask in the most innocent voice I could muster. "Haven't you been hanging out with him all day?"

Stan lowers his head. "We're not speaking to each other," he says in a low voice.

"Oh," I say in a surprised and upset voice. Man, I should be an actor when I grow up! "That's such a shame," I shake my head as if not believing what I was hearing, the innocent voice still playing in my voice, a smile spreading across the features of my face. "I didn't mean to break up such a beautiful friendship,"

But that was my big mistake. The next thing I knew, Stan had stopped walking. I turn and face him; a mixture of anger and realization was present on his face. Realization left and anger took over. He looks like his about to kill me.

"You fucking, fatass!" he shouts angrily as he comes up close to me and holds me by my jacket. "It was, you wasn't it!?"

I flutter my eyelashes at him as I put my hands together in a praying gesture and say in a calm relaxed voice: "Whatever do you mean, Stan?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, you lying, self-centered, egotistical, bastard!" Fire was clearly in Stan's eyes.

"I don't know what you-"

"You started that rumor about Kyle, didn't you!?" He shakes me, violently, almost spitting in my face. "You started that rumor about Kyle being gay, didn't you!?" He shook me again, but I held my mouth closed and smile at hi.

"Answer me!" He shakes me so hard that I fall flat on my ass, the snow melting under me. I hear Kenny laughing his balls off in the background. Stan had gone way too far!

"You little fuck!" I scream at him as I get to my feet and punch him in face. I feel the contact, and Stan holds were I punched him. He punches me back and fall, yet again, to the ground. This prick is going to die!

But before I could punch Stan in the face and make him cry for his mommy, he starts to walk away.

"Yeah!" I shout after him. "You walk away, you little pussy! You know I would have kicked your ass!"

Stan turns around, a few feet away and says;

"Because of you, fatass, Kyle hates me. And now, I'm going to make everything right again," And then, he turns around and walks away into the distance.

"Go ahead!" I shout. "Go back to your crying pussy of a boyfriend! His not going to forgive you, anyway!" I laugh to add effect.

I was stuck with Kenny. He looks at me, shakes his head, his arms folded.

"Why are you looking so disapproving for, you little perverted vagina-hungerer!?"

Kenny replies with;

"Your such a fucking fat douchbag, Cartman," And he walks away.

"Fuck you, Kenny!" I shot back at him.

I start to walk through the snow alone; just the way I like it.

I don't care what any of those dickheads say; today was the most awesome day I have ever had.

I take out a photo from my pocket. It was a picture of Kyle; he was looking sad as ever; it was a good thing I told Clyde to take a picture of Kyle. The look on his face was the best thing I ever saw!

Starting that rumor was the best thing I ever did…..

If only I knew it would lead to love.

* * *

**A/N:**

*** = This is funny cause I'm English. I guess I'm a little gay fag since I drink tea. LOL. **

**OK, this was my first try of doing a chapter in Cartman's Perspective. I hope I captured Cartman's personality right. I think I did all right.**

**Also, I'm sorry the chapters are a bit slow at the moment; it's just so I can set up the story. But don't worry; in a couple of chapter's the story gets better! Trust me! :)**

**You know what I need people:**

**Reviews. **

**The more reviews I have, the more I will be encouraged to write more (And I will be reassured that people are reading this thing!). So, click that little green button below.**

**I won't leave it too long till I update again; promise! That is, as long as you review!**

**See ya next update! :)**


	4. I Hope You Die

**A/N:**

**Thanks for all the awesome reviews you guys have left for this story! It just reminds me that so many people actually like this story. And those reviews really got me determined, motivated and encouraged me to write this chapter, so thank you for all of the help! **

**Again, I'm sorry that I haven't been updating this story as much as you like me to and it's a shame cause I really like this story; I've just been really stressed and life's been a bitch to me that I really didn't have enough time to update. Also, I'm pretty lazy guy, which is my downfall (It's thanks to you guys that I got my fat-ass off the couch and starting writing again. lol). **

**Well, I don't start University till sometime in the middle of September so I still have time to update my fanfics! :)**

**Enough of my rambling, here is the anticipated Chapter 4! :)**

**Sorry about spelling and grammar mistakes!**

**

* * *

****Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

**

* * *

**"**My life is hell; what do you know about it?"**

**

* * *

****I'll Try To Fix You**  
**Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 4  
I Hope You Die  
**

I didn't need Stan.

I didn't need anybody for that matter. Al I needed was myself and only myself. I didn't need nobody else. It was only me; that was the only person I could trust; myself.

I don't need to be around people. I can do just fine sitting here on my bed away from the world that laughs at me, at my face, behind my back because of a silly little rumor that wasn't even true…..A silly little rumor that even my so-called "Super Best Friend" believed in.

I felt so cold, so lonely. As if no-one was with me, like I was living alone, even though my mother was downstairs making lunch. But my mom is like that; cold. She could practically chill the whole room even when the heater was on full blast. She just didn't have that warm motherly glow that I excepted her to have. Even when I was a child, her hugs were lifeless and…cold…and even a little frightening.

Though saying that. my mother, no matter how much I loved her, always scared the shit outta me. Her voice was snappy and stern, as if she was scolding you for something you didn't even do. Her posture was authoritive like, with her hands on her hips almost all the time, almost like an officer of the law. Her eyes would glare into your eyes, burn your eyes, as if her glare was burning your soul…no, freezing your soul. She was a very scary woman with a very strict sense of upbringing. Rules were always placed for some reason after awhile that, in time, I just didn't care for them anymore. If rules were not followed and you were caught not abiding these rules, you would punished. And I mean, _punished_.

For example, my mother has this rule that if you use up all the toilet paper, you have to replace it. I used up the last toilet paper and was going to replace it, but I heard my cell ring and I discovered that I had a text from Stan. Once I washed my hands firmly, I replied to Stan's message and left the bathroom…without replacing the toilet paper. An hour later, my mother screams at the top of her lungs for the whole family to come to the bathroom. When we are all present she asks in a very serious voice "Who was the last person to use the toilet?" I tentavily raised my hand. I shiver from remembering the glare that my mother directed at me. She asks me why I hadn't replaced the toilet paper. But before I can defend myself, she pulls on my wrist and drags me to the kitchen. What happened next…..I can't tell you. Cause, seriously, I don't remember what happened. It's a repressed memory. All that I know, is when I pass the kitchen microwave, I shiver and my heart accelerates at top speed.

So my mom is strict as hell and rules are in place; why you ask? Well, I guess it has to do with the fact that I am expected to achieve very highly and my mom expects me to be accepted into Hovered University, even though I haven't even taken my finals yet. Rules are there to allow me to grow up from knowing wrong from right. There also there to ensure I am civilized, so that when I go for a interview at Harvard, I would make a good impression. The rules are also to influence my little brother, Ike, for my mom expects him to be an overachieving, just as much as me.

She scares me. That's it. The woman scares me. Which is probably the reason I brought the study book she wanted me to buy so badly. I don't even want…need the fucking thing! I'm top achieving in the whole of my class, and yet she still insists that I buy the book! She's just over stepping the line way too much…

After I brought the book, I headed home. I climbed up the tree outside my bedroom window and climbed through. I'm under my covers now, scrunched up into a ball, my arms covering my legs, my knees to my face. My mom doesn't even know I'm here; she still thinks I'm at that fucking school. But it's OK, because she doesn't enter my room, thank god. She at least has the decency to allow me to keep my privacy. She only ever enters my room when she has to put away my laundry, which isn't today. But I still have to get back out the window and make it look like I have just arrived home from school….

That place. That fucking place where kids are laughing at me, where Stan is laughing at me….

Who the fuck started that rumor? Maybe I should have taken Clyde's offer. Maybe I should have just paid him and find out who the rumor starting is. Maybe I could have told my mom that I lost the money…but, no, I can't do that. Just looking at the microwave makes me stop from even thinking attempting to do a thing. I can't disobey her; she's too scary…I'm frightened.

My eyes suddenly burn with tears. I close my eyes tight, not wanting to give the kids at school the satisfaction that they made me cry. But I can't hold on much longer and my eyes open and my eyes are sparkling and I need a tissue to dry my eyes. But I don't care. Fuck my life.

I suddenly start to sob and I suddenly feel a heavy sensation cover my eyes. I fall asleep…

* * *

"Kyle! Kyle!"

I can hear an angry voice, a really angry voice calling my name…..but I want to sleep and stay asleep.

"Kyle! Wake up this instant, up disobedient child!"

And suddenly, I feel my duvet cover slip off from me. My eyes open and I see a pair of anger filled eye that could suck the life out of me; it's my mother's eyes and she's nowhere near to pleasant….

"Why were you asleep in bed?"

I get up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I do so.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I fell asleep. Why did I fall asleep? I look to my left and look to my bed-side table. My alarm clock reads 3:30a.m. Double shit. What do I say now?

"Well?"

Maybe I should just tell her the truth? It looked like it was the only option….

"I….the kids at school…they…saying stuff…."

"Sticks and stones, Kyle," My mom says in a stone-like voice with no emotion. "You ignore them and don't listen to them."

Didn't she hear me? Didn't she understand, comprehend that her child was being bullied?

"But mom-"

Interrupted, yet again.

"Did you buy the study book I asked you to buy?"

"Y-yes," I say in a shaky voice. "I can show you," I grab my schoolbag by the side of my bed and open it up. I take out the study book that cost fifty bucks. She looks at it with an approving glance. I feel like I'm off the hook; boy was I wrong…

"Why were you asleep in bed and why were you not in school!" My mom screeches at the top of her lungs after. "Don't you realize that you lost precious time of education? Don't you realize that I want you to get a good education for your future? Don't you realize I'm doing this for you?"

Yes, I do realize all that. But she still isn't listening to me!

"I do realize that, Mom. But I-"

"No, you don't, Kyle!" She yells back. "Otherwise you would be at school. How long have you been here? Two hours? Three hours? All day?"

I'm quiet for a bit because the answer is the last thing she said. But she all ready knows the answer and she is furious. She grabs hold of my wrist and drags me out of my room.

"W-where are w-we going?" I ask in a fearful voice, my mom not caring if I hurt myself, as we both descend the stairs.

"We are going to teach you a lesson, Kyle," She answers without looking at me, without looking at the fear on my face….I'm her fucking child! "A lesson about disobeying your mother. A whole day worth's lesson in doing what you've been told to do. A lesson in being a loving son…"

And I know where we're going, where we're heading to even before I see it with my eyes; the kitchen…the microwave; a punishment I hadn't experienced in over three months. I start to squirm but my mom twists my wrist and I sob, asking her to let me go. My yelps and pleads go without being listened to; no-one else is in the house. And as she drags me to the kitchen, I only wish that I had taken Clyde's offer and stayed at school….

* * *

There's a reason why I always wear my green gloves, even when I'm inside; it's to hide the burn marks and bruises that are scarred into my throbbing, painful hands. It marks of pain and abuse, which is caused, tragically, by my own blood, my own fucking mother.

I remember why I always shiver when I walk past the kitchen microwave. I remember why I never set the TV diner food to five hundred watts, even if the instructions say I have to. I remember why, in these circumstances, I call my brother to cook the TV diners in the microwave, too frightened and jittery to do myself. My brother, with a knowing nod, takes over and relieves me from the daunting task. Of course, my brother knows about the abuse.

In fact, he was the very first one to be punished by my mother's hands for not following a simple dinnertime table rule: "Don't get off the table without asking" I mean, his only a kid! Only ten years old; he didn't deserve the punishment he was treated to. He's my brother….

And I comfort him when he comes into my room, waking me up in the middle of night, whimpering about a nightmare that included a wicked woman with a big nose that continually abused him; Well, that's what he had said. I, as a big brother, allowed him to sleep in my bed, and I didn't, don't care if my mom comes running into the room, deeming my comfortness "Inappropriate". He's my brother and I will always be there for him no matter what. At least, I tell myself that…..

My dad; Gerald Broflovski. He's a good man, but a bad father. He never stands up for himself and, almost always, goes along with what my mom says and does, even if I and he both know he doesn't' agree with what she does and says. My dad wants to stop what's happening; I can see it in his sympathetic eyes; he's just too afraid to act, to stop what is happening in his own house. And because of his fear and his confliction in doing the right thing, he usually gets away from home and goes to the bar to get drunk, coming home smelling of alcohol and piss. I and Ike witnessed him in a very foul drunken state the other night, singing a Courtney Cox song. My mom had a real going at him, yelling and screaming, but he only sang louder and more drunk. I took Ike upstairs, not wanting him to see my mom beat the hell out of him.

So as you can see, my life is not what it appears to be on the surface. Not one outside of the family knows anything that happens behinds these walls. Not even my so-called best friend, Stan, knows anything about what I go through…though he probably would go and yap to the whole of the town! He probably won't even believe me, even if I showed him proof.

But as much as I hate him right now, I could really need him. I don't care if he doesn't believe me about not being gay; I just need to….talk to someone.

Tap. Tap. TAP!

My eyes blink open from the noise of tapping among my bedroom window. I'm under my cover and I'm in a ball position. However, this position is changed into a full height position as I get out from my bed cover and stand on my bedroom floor. I walk to the window, my hands still covered my gloves, and I open the window, the cold Colorado air blowing against my face.

I peep down at the ground and, my eyes budge out, as they lay onto the person was just thinking about, hopping to see, to talk to. It's Stan Marsh and he is looking up to me, his hands in his jeans pockets, his eyes pleading with my own. I am shocked at what I see.

"Kyle…." He says in a strong voice. "I-I've come to speak to you,"

He had come; his Super Best Friend had come to speak to him, Stan Marsh had come to speak to him.

"Your mom wouldn't allow me to speak to you so I-," He continues to speak but I say: "Wait!" to stop him from speaking anymore; what if my mom hears him? I don't even wanna think what would happen…

"Climb that tree…" I gesture to the tree which stood tall and proud right next to him. "….and climb through my bedroom window. We should talk in private where no-one can hear us,"

Stan smiles and climbs the tree.

* * *

"That fucking fat-ass! I should have guessed he would have come up with something as fucked up as this!" I curse to myself, my head looking down as a pace around in my bedroom. Why didn't I see? Why didn't even guess that that fat fucking lard-ass came up with the rumor of me being a homosexual? Why didn't it cross my mind!

"I should have thought it was him who came up with that rumor," Stan, somewhat, mutters, more to himself than to me. He is sitting on my bed, his eyes darted to the floor, his hands together on his lap. He looks ashamed of himself….

I stop and face Stan, looking at his form. "How did you find out?" I ask my friend, slowly.

"He…he didn't actually tell me straight out," Stan says, a little quiet than usual, his eyes still not looking into my own. "It kinda just clicked altogether when I looked into his eyes after he and I had a little argument. I was so angry at him…."

I snort and look away. "Everyone is always angry with Cartman,"

Silence fills the room for a few seconds, until I hear Stan sigh and say:

"I'm sorry,"

My head turns to look at him and I see that he is looking up at me with sad eyes, a sad frown lingering around his mouth.

"What?" I ask.

He sighs again. "I'm sorry that I didn't believe you, Kyle," And he looks down again. "I'm supposed to be your Super Best Friend and even when everyone was against you, I still didn't stand with you and accept what you had to say," He stands up slowly, still not meeting my gaze. "I guess I'm not much of a friend,"

And right here, right now in this very second, I realize that Stan is my Super Best Friend. I realize that he always was, is.

I put a comforting hand on his shoulder and I smile as he finally looks at me with sad eyes. "You'll always be my Super Best Friend, Stan,"

And Stan smiles back. "You, mean…? You, forgive me?"

I pull Stan into an awkward hug and release him, the small smile still placed on my face. "Always,"

"Thanks, dude," And as Stan sits back down on my bed, an air of familiarity settles into the room.

I sit on my desk chair and face Stan, not knowing what to say to him. Thankfully, Stan says something first…

"So, dude, what you gonna do about Cartman and the whole rumor thing?"

And just as suddenly I forget my anger towards Cartman, it returns at full blast. My fists clench and my expression turns to one of hatred. But Stan had a good question; what was I gonna do? Well, I wanted to go and kick the shit outta him, but he would probably be home stuffing his face with cheesy poofs. Beating him up sounds to simple, however. No, I need to get him back another way.

I haven't answered Stan's question and as I turn to face my TV, I spot my Xbox 360. I smile as a plan forms in my head; I know what I'm gonna do about this whole little problem. And I know my mom is only downstairs and she could be back any moment; I am supposed to be grounded. So, how was I gonna leave the room?

I think and my eyes fall on Stan's confused expression. I smile. He looks like he's about to speak, but I stop him…

"Hey, Stan," I address my Super Best Friend who looks at me, startled. "You couldn't do me a favor, could you?"

Stan shakes his head and answers "Sure, Kyle. But…what is it?"

"You couldn't….stay in my room while I sneak out for a bit, could you?"

I hope the answer is "Yes,"

Stan looks like his thinking about if for a moment, but he answers in the end.

"Sure thing, Dude," Stan smiles at me. "After what I did to you, it's the least I can do," His smile is replaced with a guilty expression.

I give him a reassuring smile, to say that we are both good friends and everything is cool now. He picks up on it and smiles again.

I head for my bedroom window and open it.

"Just answer me one thing before you leave," I hear Stan's voice ask, one foot out the window already and the other securely on my bedroom floor. "What are you gonna do?"

I smile, evilly. "About to ruin Eric Cartman's life,"

Stan shines a confused expression at me, but before he could ask me to elaborate, my other foot is already out of the window…

* * *

I slam my fist against Eric Cartman's door. I can hear the sound of the television on the other side, blaring out an episode of "Terrance & Phillip" (He still watches that show? What a big baby!) I hear Cartman's voice yelling "Mom" Get the door!"

He is such a lazy fuck! I slam my fist against the door even harder, making more noise. Cartman yells for his mother but after failing to reach her ears, he yells angrily: "All ;right! Alright! I'll fucking answer it, you lazy whore!"

The front door of the Cartman house opens and Eric Cartman is standing there in front of me, confused at seeing me. Before he can open his mouth and ask what I'm doing standing at his doorstep, I slam my fist into his mouth causing him to fall onto his fat-ass, moaning and grunting on the floor. I step in the house and slam the door behind me, my body over Cartman's. He is holding one hand to his mouth where blood is covering his front room carpet.

"Kahl!" He screams, angrily. "Whath the fuckth!" His words are a little off, for one mouth is closing his mouth. "You broketh my fuckingth mouth!"

I give him a hateful stare. "You fucking deserve it, you fat fuck!" He looks up at me.

"What the fuckth are you-?"

"I know it was you who started that rumor about me!" I scream at the top of my lungs. I was furious, I was lucid. The blood that ran through my veins was pure hate.

The boy smirks up at me. "Whatever do you-?" He asks in his fake innocent voice that he always uses to get out of trouble.

"You started the rumor that I was gay!" I didn't really feel like playing games with Cartman; I only wanted to make him suffer….

"I didn't do anythingth of the sorth," he says in a light voice, looking hurt.

"And now, I'm gonna ruin your life," I state in a dangerous voice. I see a amused expression cross his face as I step over the boy and walk away, heading for the stairs which leads to Cartman's bedroom. Next thing I know, I hear him following me.

Thing you should know about Eric Cartman is that he's definition of "ruined life," is something I would call "pathetic". He isn't like anybody else. A ruined life to him is no big deal to me. The only way I was going to get my revenge on Cartman was if I had something that he really cared about. If I had that thing and destroyed it, he would be distraught and, because of the time that I have spent with this asshole, I would know that he would think that life is not worth living for anymore. There was only one occasion when I held that object and that was after Cartman had injected me with the AID's virus. I almost went through with it but I changed my mind at the last moment. This time, however, there is nothing that can change my mind. Nothing at all…

As I climb the stairs in a angry, blood-filled rage, Cartamn is just behind me and he is saying my name in an urgent voice: "Kahl! Kahl!" I, of course, pay him no attention. "Whereth the fuckth do you think your gointh?" I didn't answer his question

My anger filled expression turns determined as I, with Cartman right behind me, reach the top of the stairs and I walk to my destination, ignoring Cartman's threats of calling the police and telling his mom; did he really think he could scare me? What a dick.

I slam open his bedroom door. By this time, Cartman is really freaking out and is trying to stop me, but I merely turn around and grab an abandoned toy on the floor and break it in half.

"No, Kahl!" Cartman screams as he runs to his break toy which is in pieces on his bedroom carpet, the toy in a full piece only moments ago.

I scan the room for the particular object I had in mind, the very object that would send Cartman over the edge, his life being ruined all at once. My eyes fall onto a gaming system device next to Cartman's TV; my eyes light up. There it was; the object Cartman thought the world off; his XBOX 360...

I throw toys here and there as I make my way across the untidy room that looks like it hasn't be cleaned in years. Toys, objects, slam against the wall and fall to pieces in my rage-filled walk, everything breaking to pieces. Cartman is going ballistic and shouting stuff that I can't be bothered to listen to, for my eyes are not looking away from Cartman's happiness and joy.

When I reach the gaming system, I grab for it and pull it out of its socket and electrical wires. The object is in my hands; it's mine to destroy at last…

"Kahl, no!" Cartman says as he forgets about his broken possessions and run other to where I'm standing, his eyes wide with fear. Oh boy, this was good… "Not the X-Box, Kahl!"

I smile, evilly. "And why not the X-Box, Cartman?" I ask in a hate filled voice, loving the fearful look on Cartman's face. "Is it because you treasure this thing above all else?"

Cartman is silent cause I and he knows that what I have said is true.

"Is it because if I destroy this object your life will be ruined?" I continue ask Cartman, the evil smirk still on my face. Cartman says nothing. I lift the X-Box 360 into the air…

"No, wait, Kahl!" Cartman suddenly outburst in a scared and pleading voice. "Don't do it, Kahl! Please…."

"It's too late for sorry's, Cartman," And in a flash I slam the three hundred dollar system to the floor. It falls with a "THUD". It's damaged but not broken, but I know how to destroy it even further. I take out a hammer I put in my jeans pocket before I left my house and use it to crash on Cartman's gaming system.

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

Every hit harder and stronger than the last. The white covering comes off and the components are left bare and unprotected; I destroy all of them, Cartman yelling at me to stop. I destroy it, everything inside. And when I can't destroy no more, I pick up the body of the gaming system and slam it against the wall as I yell out in anger and pain.

The gaming system crashes against the wall and, with one last SMASH, crashes to the floor in pieces. Cartman's gaming system was, finally, destroyed.

I breathe out slowly, trying to catch my breath, my hands on my knees. Cartman is looking at his once whole X-Box, which is now on the floor in pieces, his face holding an expression of shock and distraught. He slowly walks to the gaming system, picking up one of the components and then turning to face me.

"Why?" he asks, quietly. "Why, Kahl?"

How dare he ask me that!

"Why?" I repeat, looking into his eyes, with a murderous look on my face. "You asking me why! WHY? Cause you started that fucking rumor about, that's why!"

"You didn't have to do this…." He gestures to his destroyed gaming system on the floor. I wonder if he realized he had just confessed that it was he who started the rumor about me, even though he's denying it. "You didn't have to…."

"Yeah, but I wanted to," I say as a twisted satisfied smile broadens my face, looking at the disheveled form of one Eric Cartman; he looks nothing like the arrogant, manipulative little asshole I know him to be. He looks like a sad, miserable little boy he wishes he was dead; mission complete. "I wanted to cause you pain, you miserable fat fuck. I wanted you to feel just a little bit how I've been feeling for the past few days. To show you just how much pain you have caused. It doesn't feel good, does it? Doesn't feel good when someone makes your life miserable, does it?"

Cartman is on the floor, now, handing a couple of broken components in his hands, staring at them like he wished he was seeing what he was seeing. Like he wished it was a dream. He suddenly looks at me and his face turns to a very angry expression.

"You fucking Jew rat!" Cartman screams as he stands up and comes up to my face. "I hope you die, Kahl!" And his spit is flying onto my face. "I hope you fucking die!" He looks like his about to punch me, so I quickly get out of the way and walk to Cartman's bedroom door.

"I hope you die as well, fat-ass!" I retort to him, for good measure, as I quickly leave his room and descend the stairs. I walk to the front door, hearing Cartman screaming and insulting me all the way; he is furious but he is also miserable. And as I close the front door behind me, I hear an angry scream filling the whole house.

It was done; I had my revenge. Eric Cartman now felt the same way I do; miserable. He know knows what it feels like and now that he is at the end of his tether, now that he is so vulnerable, I wish he would fucking die and never return….

A few hours later, I would have wished I never said that….

* * *

**A/N:**

**Yes! It's complete at last! High five for determination!**

**This is, by far, the longest chapter I have written for this fanfic so far. And it really does bring up a lot of emotion, compared to the last few. This chapter intention was to put both Kyle and Cartman at the edge, both feeling very angry at one another so that they would wish that the other would die which, soon, leads on to the rest of the story…**

**I know it's a little cliché' to have Kyle's mom abusive towards her children and all, but I just had to use it to show how Kyle's life is shit and that he is hiding things from his friends. Yeah, sad…**

**Anyway, I hope your enjoying the story so far! We will be getting into the plot of the story in the next chapter. That's right; it's time for the dreams!**

**Please review to keep me happy and motivated!**

**Reviews will be treated with love and care and will be used as confidence boosters! :)**

**See ya next update my fine readers and reviewers! :)**


	5. Turning Point

**A/N:**

**Again, I would just like to thank everyone for reading and for leaving so many reviews for this fanfic story! I had no idea so many people like it so much! You have all boosted my confidence a great deal. You guys rock and don't ever forget that! :)**

**I started University the other week and, so far, it's fucking AMAZING! I've partied for 3 days in a row and returned home in a drunken and unstable condition (I, undoubtfully and unfortunately, awoke the next day to a pounding head-ache.) I haven't been assigned any assessments on anything yet (But I will soon!) so, I believed, now would be the best time to update my fanfics.**

**That's all from me! :)**

**Here it is my fine readers and reviewers, the chapter you've all been waiting for: Chapter 5...The Dreams!**

**

* * *

Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME SEX REFERENCES AND BLOODY VIOLENCE THAT MAY BE UNSUITABLE TO TEENAGERS UNDER THE AGE OF THRITEEN.**

**

* * *

**"**Now you realize how fucked up I am!"**

**

* * *

I'll Try To Fix You**  
**Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 5  
Turning Point**

**Kyle's Perspective  
**

When I returned home, I was not surprised to discover that Stan was not in my bedroom, sitting on my bed, waiting patiently for my return, smiling at me when I climbed through my bedroom window. Instead, I found my mother standing in my doorway, her hands on her hips in her authorative stance, telling me that I was in serious trouble, accompanied by her flaring nostrils and her black narrowed eyes of cold, so sold, ice cold, anger, of hate.

I knew asking Stan to stay in my bedroom while I sneaked out, was not a good idea before I even asked. I knew it was a crazy plan and I knew there was no way Stan could stop my mother from entering my bedroom, her fat fist against banging against my door, wanting to make sure that I was study for math. What was Stan suppose to do? Stay quiet or try to fake my voice? Either way, my mother would enter my room whether Stan's impression of my voice was good or shit; my mother would enter my room and make sure I was doing what I had been ordered to do and there was no stopping her anyway. She could enter my bedroom whenever she liked; I had no lock on my door.

Ever since my mother became the world's biggest bitch, with her constant ordering and her on-going list of rules, she had ordered my father (Who tried to talk my mother out of it but to no avail) to take down the lock off from my bedroom door and even my younger brother, Ike's, bedroom door. My mother believes that she have constant control over everything that we do, that she knows that we are doing exactly what she wants use to do and having the locks taken off our bedroom door's is the only way she can stay assured that her loving sons are doing exactly as he ordered. Of course, she doesn't trust us; she never fucking has and never fucking will, for if she did trust us, the locks would have, and would be, on the doors where they belong.

My mother also believes that I am masturbating at nighttime, so as a percussion, she comes in and cheeks if I'm…..enjoying myself. Masturbation, as you might not know, is strictly prohibited under Jewish law, so I shouldn't be doing it anyway and I wouldn't be doing it, but…..my mother; she's the reason why I do it in the first place! I do it cause it's my only real enjoyment, my only true freedom away from her in my whole house. I also a thrill of excitement when I do cause I know I am going against one of her stupid fucking rules. And I do feel a little guilty after I finish the act (Curse the rabbi condemning any boy from masturbating, calling them scum if they even did the act!), but after, the feeling washes away from my body, a feeling of accomplishment and rebellion take hold of me.

_I did it! I went against her and she can't do a thing!_ Well….that's how I felt the first time I did it and it was the last time I did…for when I had just finished, my whole body, naked, resting on my bed, sprawled as my heart-hammers against my rib-cage, my mother slams open the door, her eyes narrow and her nostrils flail as she looks upon my body and notices the white fluid on my stomach. It's must like….she knew, like she knew all along what I was doing and she deliberately let me do the act, letting me feel the thrill just for a bit, before she comes crashing through the door like the devil himself, just so she can punish me for her sick-enjoyment. And the punishment I received was….traumatizing. It was so bad…..so humiliating, so sick.

I had to jerk-off in front of her until I ejaculated. Nobody knows about it; not my father, not Ike, not any of my friends. It's a dark secret that I withhold to never reveal, even if my life was at stake.

I never want to repeat the same thing again so I never masturbate at home. But she doesn't know that I do it at school. I mean, for fuck sake. Not including my friends, it's one of the things that is keeping me going. I need to do, no matter much guilt I feel inside, no matter how much I'm afraid she'll come crashing open the cubicle, making me do….it….again. I don't care!

But when I looked into her cold dark, hateful eyes, I started to feel that maybe going against her isn't such a good idea. Looking into those dark stone like eyes, I started to feel that the feeling of accomplishment and rebellion just wasn't worth it, against the punishment I would receive if she ever discovers what I'm doing behind her back.

I should have never had asked Stan to stay in my bedroom. I never she had asked him to do that! And maybe, just maybe, he believed it was risky and thought it was a bit stupid, seeing how my mom could enter my bedroom at any second, without a minutes warning, finding himself standing in the middle of the room and I, nowhere to be seen. Maybe he only agreed to do the favor I asked because he felt like he owed me since he felt guilty about not believing me when I said I wasn't, am not, gay. I know it was risky and I know it was stupid; I don't need you to tell me that. But…..I had to see that fat-fuck! I had to confront him! I wanted to make his life a living hell, I wanted him to be miserable, want him still to die! Revenge covered my body, clouded my thoughts, logic and thinking. All I wanted was to make him suffer…

I don't regret doing what I did to Cartman, the biggest asshole in the universe. But I do feel guilty for asking Stan to stay in my bedroom. What happened to him? Where is he now? What did he say when my mom saw him standing in my bedroom? Did he tell her the truth? I'm such a bad friend….

The first thing that happened when I entered my bedroom was a heart-sinking feeling when my eyes laid on the body of my mother. Then, a dark and uncomfortable silence filled the room, neither my mother or I starting first. I, taking a plunge into the deep end, was about to talk first, but my mom screamed over me, shouting at me, telling me that I was a horrible son, that I was spawn of the devil, that I needed to be properly served under her rules, that I was no gentlemen, that I had to get into Harvard, become something of myself, that I was going against her deliberately (One of my mother's rules is that you can't leave the house without her permission or let anyone in without her permission; I broke both rules in one day.), that she….hated me for that single reason.

I said "I'm sorry, mom!" over and over again, but she didn't listen to a word I said, acting as if she was death. I asked what happened to Stan and where he was, but I received no comfort, no answer from her on the whereabouts of my best friend…probably ex-best friend now. And even though I would receive my appending punishment, my mind was still focused on where my best friend is. When my mom punched me in the right cheek, causing pain to spread through my right cheek, causing me to fall to the floor with an all mighty "THUD", my mind suddenly started to race, my heart started to pound, rapidly, as the dark form loomed over me and battered me in the ribs, legs and face, over and over again until I passed out on the floor, without a single motherly "Goodnight".

This was my tuck-in, I guess, and as I fell into unconsciousness, I only wounded if I could die being loved….

* * *

**Cartman's Perspective**

My life is over. My life is fucking over!

That Jew-rat just storms into my house and just breaks my X-Box 360 for no reason at all! I did nothing to him and he comes in here, angry and pissed off as hell (He probably had sand stuck up his vagina!), punches me in the mouth, in the process, making me bleed and breaking my jaw, and breaks mah stuff! Breaks my precious X-Box! I'll break his balls that's what I'll do when I see him tomorrow!

I mean, what was his reason, again? Something about starting that gay rumor thing about him? Yeah, that's it! He screamed like a little girl, telling me that I was lying to him, that I started that rumor and I had ruined his life. Well, I must admit, I am eternally happy that Kyle Broflovski's life is all down the toilet tube and all. And I am happy that someone had come with such an in-genius way to make his life so shit (Ha Ha! I bet he cries himself to sleep every night! I wanna lick those sweet, salty tears! Just thinking of it makes me smile!). But, I am angry and really pissed off to tell you (Yeah, I'm talking to you, bitch!) that I didn't come up with the rumor. And why the fuck didn't I! I mean, I'm Eric Theodore fucking Cartman! Why didn't I think of that! It's so simple yet so effective! Why didn't I see it?

Oh well, fuck it! I'm just super happy that Kyle Broflovski is all angsty and miserable. If I didn't make his life shit, at least someone else had. But if Kyle thinks I'm just gonna sit back and let someone else ruin his life, he is so fucking wrong like he always is! I'm not gonna give up that easily! I'm not gonna let someone else take all the credit in ruining his life, no fucking way am I gonna let that happen! My plan to make Kyle Broflovski's life hell (Even more hell that it already is for that little Jew rat, Ha ha ha!) has already begun. It's gonna be so awesome, I can feel it! Tomorrow morning, Kyle Broflovski will certainly want to die!

And he fucking better die! He better die! I want him to die! My fucking X-box! He broke my X-Box! That fucking Jew-rat-faced, uncle-fucker! He broke my life's purpose! My only real…..friend. Wait, what? You didn't just hear that, you hear me! I've got hundreds of friends! Just checkout my Facebook page if you don't believe me!

Anyway….Kyle will die! He will fucking die and stay dead and, if that does happen, I will be so fucking happy! No-more Jew-rat to hang around with, no more fat-ass jokes, no more smart ass jibes or sniggering all none of his Jewishness rubbing on me! No-more Kyle Broflovski! It will literally be heaven on earth! I can't wait for tomorrow morning!

I'm in my messy bedroom, parts of toys are scattered across the floor, pieces on my bed, robotic arms on my bed-stand, my iPhone in pieces by my bedroom window, my X-Box 360 in pieces, compartments smashed, in my hands. I try to pick up as many pieces as possible and keep them there, tight against my chest, afraid that if I let them go, reality will sink in and I will cry like a pussy. My hands are trembling, my heart is pounding, and as I look down and see a part that I recognize as the X-Box hard-drive, dead in my hands, a single tears rolls down my cheek. I'm not a pussy!

I don't know how long I stand there for, holding back tears and trembling, not moving an inch in my bedroom, the sound of my clock ticking by the seconds, the only real indicator that time was actually moving and not standing still as I originally thought. I start to calm down a little bit, and when I believe that I am reasonably stable, I let the X-Box parts in my hands crash to floor, in pieces dead and shattered, way beyond repair. The sounds of crashes hit me hard, realizing that I had no X-Box at all. That machine was my life and that Jew just had to come in here and break it! He ruined my life! What am I to do without X-Box! Hang out with those assholes! No fucking way! I'd rather shoot myself!

I can't even ask my mom for a new one. Why, you ask? Simple. My mom is a Crack whore. It's that simple, no further explanation. Fine. Since I progressed into my teen years, my mom has found looking after me to bit….a challenge (Hey! I keep her fit! And I was her whole life!) Yeah, "was", not anymore. As I grew, I become more…I don't know?...awesome. And for some unknown (Possibly, womanly) reason, my mom couldn't look after me. She was already whore before my teenage years, but now she is on crack all the time, telling me that she needs it to "mellow out" as she put it. I don't care what she says; that shit is gonna kill her! And she doesn't even keep the money she makes on sex; she goes out and buys more crack! Where does the food come from? I'll tell you; no-where. The only food I get is at school and the food in the fridge (Which isn't a lot). I badger my mom to get more food, but she is already passed out on her bed or fucking with some guy she doesn't know! A new X-box is outta the picture for me…..fuck it all.

I slowly walk out of my bedroom, leaving the door open as I exit. The hallway is dark now and the light isn't on. I flip the switch and the hallway is lit from a single light-bulb that dangles from the ceiling. I feel my mouth starting to hurt as a pain takes hold. As blood drips from the side of my mouth, I finally realize that my mouth is still bleeding from Kahl punched me in the moth (I'll get him back for this!). I put a hand to my mouth to stop the bleeding, which I fail at, god-damn it. I head towards the bathroom, turn on the light and wash-away the blood in my mouth. I keep a small amount of tissue from where the blood is still bleeding. I exit the bathroom and slowly walk down the hallway. I stop at a door. I put my ear to the side and hear my mom snoring on the other side. I sigh and make my way back to my bedroom. I tidy up as much as I can, putting all my broken X-Box pieces to one side of the room, and the rest in another. Once I finish, I fall, slamming my head onto my bed pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

I think about how I want Kyle Broflovski to die. I think about how he killed my X-Box, how broke it without thinking about how I would feel. Well, that would be different soon. Tomorrow morning, Kyle Broflovski will feel just a little bit how he has made me feel. He thinks his life is miserable now? Just wait. Kyle Broflovski will be the one who will break and I will be so happy when he does.

And as close my eyes, smiling at what is to come the next day, I hear a small cry somewhere deep in my head…..

"Kahl?"

* * *

**Kyle's Perspective/Dream**

It's dark. It's very, very dark and it scares me.

I don't know where I am. Where am I?

I can't see anything!

Hello!

Suddenly, there's a small light up ahead and I go for it. I don't like the dark, it scares me and I go for the light. I reach the end. It's a golden gate and I want to get past it. On the other side, something is…pulling me?...towards it and I want to be with it. But this gat won't open! I put my hands to the gate and shake it and pound my fists against it, ordering it, wanting it to open up and let me in. But no matter how much I push, no matter how strong my arms are, how strong my might is, the gate would not budge.

I shout out a name but I can't hear myself say it. The name is the thing that is pulling me towards it, and I want to be other there with them, but the gate is the only barrier that is standing in the way between the two of us. I shout out the name again and I can feel the thing pulling me, the person come closer and the light becomes brighter, bigger as it gets nearer. I shield my eyes for it is causing my eyes to burn and just when I could reach out and touch the thing…the person….I love that person, don't I?...I fall.

I fall and I fall and I fall.

I feel like I've been falling for ages and when I realize I have a watch on my wrist and decide to look at it, I hit the ground with an almighty THUD.

The first thing I realize is that whatever I land on is hard as concrete. I open my eyes and see that I am lying on a concrete path. I slowly get myself to stand, not noticing that I had no scratches on my face or any part of my body. Not one single bone in my body is broken or sprained either. Strange…

I should be thinking Where the hell am I?, but I don't. All I think about is wanting to be back up there with that person, wanting to be on the other side of that gold gate. I wanna see them again, hold them, kiss them…

I WANT TO BE WITH THEM!

The feeling is so intense that I almost scream out, but I don't because a hand falls on my shoulder. I turn around and I see the downcast expression on my Super Best Friend's face. I smile at him but he frowns at my smile. I smile back, asking him why he is upset. I can't hear my voice still. He replies but I don't hear him. He says, _This is a funeral and your asking me that question!_

I ask who died but he doesn't answer. He just shakes his head as angry tears fall down his face. He only says, _You know who, already, so don't fuck around, fat-ass!_

_Fat-ass?_ Since when the hell did Stan start calling me that! He never screams at me and never calls me names, especially fat-ass! The only person he calls fat-ass is Car- I stop dead in my tracks as Stan stares at me in the face, watching my eyes widen.

_Don't be making fun of him!_ Stan moves his mouth to say, but I don't hear anything. _Not today! Not now and not ever! You got that, Cartman!_

I'm….Cartman? As in Eric Cartman? Dude…..

I let that piece of information sick in slowly, and when it rests I tell Stan that I'm sorry….

_Sorry? Sorry doesn't bring him back, does it, Cartman! He's gone! I should have never told you to go back to him! I should have tried harder to stop him from seeing you! Fuck, why did I tell you in the first place!_

I don't know what Stan is talking about; I'm so confused and the expression is planted on my face….Cartman's face. I'm Cartman? How the hell! But it seems as though Stan has noticed my confused expression…

_Yeah, I told him about how you were feeling. And he went back to you! Now, his dead! And it's all because….because I…because…._

Stan is still not making any sense to me, but that's OK, because the next thing I know Stan punches me in the mouth (The same place I punched Cartman…myself…you know what I mean!) and go falling to the floor, screaming.

I scream, _Why do people keep punching me there!_, but Stan ignores me as he turns his body and walks in the opposite direction, an angry but sad expression plastered on his face.

Snow falls as I lift myself off from the concrete path. I put a hand, one of Cartman's fat hands to my mouth, touching the red substance that is coming out. What was Stan talking about? What had I…..no, what had Cartman, the biggest asshole of the century, done? What happened? And why the fuck am I Cartman! And why am I starting to cry, falling onto my knees, saying over and over again "I'm sorry!" Why do I feel like it's all my fault and whatever Stan says is true? What's happening to me! _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…forgive me!_

And I realize what is happening, in an instance. The thing that was pulling me…back up there…the golden gate…the person behind those bars….that person that….I love that person….their dead. This is their funeral.

I look down myself and I am wearing a brown tuxedo. Stan was wearing his grey one. I look to the left and I see a small gathering of people standing around a single gravestone, snow falling all around them and myself. That's the person! I love that person! But…their dead. I did this! It's my fault! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm s-

I close my eyes and I open them quickly. Its night now and I'm in my bedroom. My old X-Box is in pieces in the corner of the room, the one Kyle had smashed up…..what am I talking about? I am Kyle! My thoughts are merging with Cartman's!

I don't remember walking back home at all. My mom is in her bedroom; she's quiet. But that's fine, that's OK with me. Because soon I will be too. Everything will be fine and I will be with…them soon. I'm coming for you!

I look down into my hands. I'm holding a cap full of drugs and in my other hand is a knife. I sit on my bed. A letter is on my bed. I quickly glance at the letter before Cartman moves away; it's a suicide letter.

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…_.that's what the letter says and that's what I'm thinking; it's best to say what you're thinking so people, if anyone at all who cares about me, anyone at all, will know what my mind set was before I took the plunge.

Who does love me? Fucking no-one at all. The only person who did, who truly did love me is…dead. And I did it. And…they changed me, made me whole, made me believe that I had a purpose in life, that I was loved. Fuck love! Fuck people! I can't do this! The only love I have is in heaven…and that's where I'm heading for.

I'm sorry,

I open the cap of pills, tears rolling down my face.

I'm sorry

I lift my head back and gulp down the whole contents in one single swish.

I'm sorry

I take the glass of water by the side and swallow hard. My mind goes blank…

I'm sorry

The room starts to drift away as my eyes become unfazed. I grab the knife in my hand and put it to my wrist…

_I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry._

I slice my wrist….

* * *

**Kyle's Perspective**

"NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

I awake by screaming. My heart is pounding, my forehead and my chest is sticking with sweat. My eyes are wide with shook and fear, for not my life but for someone whole least expected to feel worry for.

I'm on my bedroom floor, partially naked. My whole body hurts from where my mom has beaten me to a pulp. But I also feel….sad….scared…..upset…no-where to turn to….exactly how I was feeling in the dream? Exactly how..Cartman was feeling. It felt, feels like it was real. Like it actually happened. But….that's stupid! It hasn't happened!

But what if it does happen?

So what! I don't care what happens to Cartman! He fucking deserves it! That would be the icing on the cake for my sweet revenge against him! Go ahead! Let him die! No-one would care anyway!

But….that's what he did it; no-one cared for him, no-one loves him. He does it cause he thinks it's the only way out. But, he did love someone…that person behind the golden gates….but they died. And Cartman blamed himself and wanted to be with that person, he wanted to kill himself.

But was only a dream!

And as I think that, I move my wrist and I feel and almighty pain shoot up my vein. I look to my right hand I see that my wrist is throbbing, like something sharp was against it only moments ago. I feel like my body can't take anymore from the pain I felt…the sadness he felt was unbearable.

It was only a dream! And I don't care if he dies!

But I stay up all night, hoping that he is safe out there wherever he may be….

* * *

**Cartman's Perspective/Dream**

Something is after me. It's dark and looks hella scary. Shit, that is frightening! But what is it?

Well, I don't wanna stay around and find out.

I start running in the opposite direction and realize that I'm trap like mouse trapped in the corner of a room. Fuck.

The dark, hideous creature starts to loom over me, starts to howl in a terrifying voice that hurts me harder than I expected. Damn, that shit is scary. Man, I should just shout back and say "Get the fuck away from me! I'm Eric Cartman!" But I go against that as I start to feel smaller than I already am.

The creature is still saying things to me and I cover my face with my trembling hands to protect myself. Why am I so scared! I don't get it! I should beat it up!

No, I don't wanna do that! She'll kill me! She's going to kill me! I've really crossed the line and now I'm dead! I just wanna get away and go back to- What am I talking about! That wasn't me thinking! I didn't say any of that! Dude, what the fuck is going on?

I try to say something but I can't say anything on the count that my mouth won't open. All I wanna know is what's going on here! I'm dead! She's gonna kill me, here and now. How did she find out? Who told her? I should never have hang out with him! But….I had to. I had to do it…I had fun. We're friends and she's angry about that! I don't-

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

I've had enough of this, shit! I wanna know where I am! Just answer me!

Slowly, out of nowhere, a large mirror appears to the right side of me. It's smashed a bit but I'm at the bottom where it's not broken. I look at my reflection and I literally stumble back at what I see.

A teenage boy in a green hat, a t-shirt covered in red blood spots, a pair of jeans, and bruises covering most of his face and blood pouring out of his mouth stare at me. A boy I wanted to die. The boy I made so miserable for these past years. A Jew. Kyle Broflovski's reflection stares at me. I lift my right hand slowly and Kyle's right hand, reflected in the mirror, does the same.

Oh shit. Oh shit. OH SHIT!

I can't be a Jew! No fucking way! I don't want to be a Jew! I can't be Kyle! God, please no! Please, no, oh lord! No…..

I feel a smack to the face that spreads everywhere. I try to hold back tears but it's no good. Another punch to the face and one to the stomach. Pain spreads everywhere, my stomach is on fire. Tears stroll down my face, never stopping in a river that will never stop.

Why is she doing this! Why is she doing this to me! I didn't men to…I…it just happened! I couldn't control myself! Please, stop! Please….help me….someone….

The dark creature is howling at me…..shouting at me….."Scum" it says and "Changed into the devil". I wanna run away and never return. I want someone to save me. If not, just let it kill me now, let it get its satisfaction and be done with me! I can't do this any longer!

Kyle is in so much pain and I can feel the Jews every feeble attempt to protect himself….I put my arms up, but it's still no good. The dark creature, the shadow still has the upper hand and it slaps me for trying to protect itself. It's angry and it what's to be done with me once and for all; I can feel it, feel the punches become harder and stronger, powerful, the howling more louder and out of control, it never stopping till I am dead.

Please…let me die….Where are you E-!

CRACK!

A powerful kick to my stomach. I scream out, the pain so intense that I want to die. Something was wrong. A punch to the head and blood is spilling out of my mouth.

The dark creature is howling….it's frantic….it's done its job.

I close my eyes, and I think of the person I love, a person with brown short hair, the person I wished that had saved me. I die, their image in my head, forever and always….

* * *

**Cartman's Perspective**

"NNNNOOOO! NO…."

I'm awake sitting up in my bed, my heart pounding and my whole body covered in sweat. I look around my room and it is pitch black. I shiver remembering the thing that had killed me…no, Kyle, that Jew rat! The shadow had killed Kyle, not me! It killed him….

But that's what wanted, wasn't it? I wanted Kyle to die! I wanted that Jew rat to feel how I felt and him dying would be the grand-prize! Even though I didn't kill him, at least someone else did!

But if he dies, how can I make his life miserable? It wouldn't be satisfying enough if someone else does the job, would it?

He should die, though! The Jew rat deserves to die! They all do and he should be first! Who cares that he loved someone and they didn't save him! (Who was it? I bet it's Stan…) He should die.

I slowly move my body onto my side and as I do so, I feel my body is on fire. Like someone had just beaten the crap outta me. Like it all happened for real. Like that creature had really beaten me…Kyle…

No! It was just a dream! Nothing more and nothing less! Kahl's fine; he isn't dead. But tomorrow, after my plan goes into full swing, he will wish he was dead.

I twist and turn for the rest of the night, hoping that my plan had failed, hoping that Kyle was alright…

* * *

**A/N:**

**It's done at last!**

**Completed, earlier than expected, but I'm glad it's done and it's up. I had a major writer's block with this one, but I re-wrote the beginning and it has turned out much better than I initially thought it would be.**

**I hope no-one was/is confused about the perspective-changing in this chapter.  
**

**Yes, the dreams chapter is done. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint you guys! This chapter is the turning point in the story, where Kyle and Cartman both have a dream (In each other's perspective) of the other dying in some way or the other (Please tell me you see the connection to the title of this chapter!). As you can see, there are some connections to how each character dies. If it isn't clear, all will make sense as the story progresses in future chapters. I love this chapter to pieces, causes its significance is really important. The feelings and emotions are very powerful in this one. Put on a sad song and cry…**

**I am working on a new CartmanXKyle vid as we speak and will be putting it on YouTube when it's done. I will post the URL in the next chapter's A/N. I am also working on a new fanfic with CartmanXKyle, wish I won't release till this one is done (But it's gonna be awesome!).**

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One of my readers by the name of "kathymcfarland" made a picture for my CartmanXKyle fanfic "It Was Him".**

**Go to the following address and tell her how awesome it is!:  
****http:/ cartmanisthebestever. deviantart. com/#/d2wyyti**** (Get rid of the gaps!)**

**Oh, and while you're at it, go and check out my brand new South Park vid's on YouTube. Just go to the links below:**

"**Inception Trailer – South Park Style!"  
http:/www. youtube. com/watch?v=VMT2bkX38 (Get rid of the gaps!)**

"**Transformers Trailer – South Park Style!"  
http:/www. youtube. com/watch?v=zuRcfJjB8N8 (Get rid of the gaps!)**

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I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and hope you continue to read and enjoy as the story continues! :)**

**Please review and let me know what you thought of this chapter.**

**Reviews will be cared for and will be put to good use! :)**

**I hope I can continue writing soon, but I don't when cause of University work and stuff. But do please keep an eye out for the next one!**

**Until next time everybody! :)**


	6. I Don't Care

**A/N:**

**Thank you so much for all of the awesome reviews! I would like to thank and anonymous reviewer called ****"**ActionGal07aol. com**" (Who reviewed recently for all chappies)** **and everyone else who has reviewed and has motivated me to keep on writing this fanfic!**

**Yeah, so I was a little surprised by how many people have reviewed the last chapter. I appreciate all the feedback and love! You all rock! :)**

**University is going great. I've been given assignments (As I predicted in my last A/N that I will get), but It's all good cause I finished them; it was hard work but it was worth it. Now I can party and write my fanfics! (Namely, this one.) :)**

**So, Kyle and Cartman have both had their dreams about the other dying; how will they act when they see each other the next day? Read onand find out..**

**Enjoy! :)**

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Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

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**"I don't care about you...or do I?"**

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**I'll Try To Fix You**  
**Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 6  
I Don't Care **

The first thing I remembered when I woke up was feeling as if I could never move again. Why couldn't I feel my body, feel my arms and legs move as consciousness filled my head, as I my eye lids slowly opened, pain spreading around my face Was I paralyzed? Maybe I was dead; I wouldn't mind if I were dead, to be honest. Dead? Death? Why do I remember something that has to do with dying? Did someone die? I can't remember...

I mean, come on, you've see my shitty life and seeing how you know everything about me, you know that my life is just so fucked up and worthless that even being with my friends could amend it.

Would you want to stay alive if your mother, a mother who should be warm and cuddly, tuck you in at night, hugging you and whispering to you softly, calmly, soothingly, that everything was going to be alright even though you just lost your best friend over a stupid argument, a mother who should wipe away your tears when you fell to the ground and scraping your knee, blood spilling everywhere...Why didn't she help me when I feel down? I feel over my bike and I was bleeding badly...

"Mommy," I remember crying in my little five year old voice, tears rolling down my face. "I fell over my b-bike..." I should my "mommy", my mother, the heartless bitch of a woman, my knee. "Make it better?" Why the fuck did her ask her that? What did I expect she would do? Hug me tight and make the pain disappear, to hold me and kiss me to...love me? Maybe at that age, but anymore.

The darkness loomed over me, sneered at my scraped knee and said in a firm voice:

"You need to look after yourself, Kyle," Her voice was so firm, so...uncaring. "You need to be more careful in the future, bubbla. Now, go and get that..." She glanced at my scrap knee... "...washed off before the other mother's see,"

Why the fuck did she care about the other mothers! Couldn't see that her son was hurt and wanted to be comforted, to held tight, to be told that everything was alright... it was raining one night and I was frightened of the thunder and lightning that crashed and boomed outside, rain splashing across my window. I went to my mom and dad's bedroom, waking my mother, telling her that I was afraid. She awoke in a bitter fashion, her voice hoarse. She told me "Don't be ridiculous, Kyle. It's only thunder and lightning. Now, go back to sleep," I wanted to be held tight, to be comforted; I didn't want to be told that I was "ridiculous"! Couldn't she see? Couldn't she say that I needed...a mom? No is the answer.

I never had a "mom". Yes, I have a mother. But I never had a real "mom". The type of mom that would hold my hand and take me to school...I walked to school on my own and, when Ike was adopted, with Ike...They type of mom that would read me a bedtime story...I read on my own and my mom insisted on it, making me read science, mathematics and history books before I went to bed...The type of mom that would take me to the park as a treat for no particular reason...She took me once to teach me how to ride a bike (Thus the story about me falling off my bike); "Smart boys need to leaner how to ride a bike; it enhances and helps grow a strong balance of hand-eye-coordination skills," That's what she said anyway...A type of mom that would hug me...The only thing I ever came close to hug from my mother was her fists punch my stomach... to kiss me...she punched me last night in the face...to care for me...that's why I can't move my body; she beat me...to tuck me in at night...she did that last night; her beating was a tuck in. She beat me...

And, very slowly, the events of last night slowly start to fill me head, images and emotions flashing everywhere in my head, emotions of pain spreading across my body, each image associated with a different pain. And as these emotions and images start to fill my head, my body starts to become more relaxed and I, finally, start to feel my body. Just as soon my body returns, I start to wish that I never wanted to feel my body ever again. The pain that spreads throughout my body is unbearable. It's like all my sense are on fire, like everywhere I touch is just pain and only pain and that's all I think now. The reason why I was paralyzed when I awoke is because the pain in my body is so high it actually tensed my body, causing my nervous system to, temporarily, shut down; I wish I never had a nervous system...

I'm on my bedroom floor, my body almost in a tight ball; it's a body movement I do when I defend myself from my mother's fists. The smell of piss fills my nostrils and I see a small wet patch on the floor where my crotch is; fuck. I look up slowly and I realize that I am in the corner of my bedroom. The sun's rays fills my room light, making my room seem all happy, even though I feel nothing close to happiness.

I slowly start to move my hand and put it in front of my face. I take off my green glove with a tentative hand and I look upon my face, knowing exactly what I will see; black and blue, black and blue, black and blue, nothing new. I hope the rest of my body is covered in bruises, but I know better not to wish that for I already know the appearance of my body before I will stand in front of a mirror. And even though I know what I will see, I think that I should look.

I use both my hands to stand, pain still radiating through my body as I do so. I'm a little dizzy when I stand, but I balance myself out, easy enough to do when you've experienced a beating since you were six. I try to move my legs and I move in front of my mirror. I see a miserable boy with a green hat, marks on his face, his body crumpled from so much pain; he looks as if he is about to die.

Die? Death? My brain starts to work, as if I'm forgetting something important...fuck, what could it be? I shake my head, but I realize that was a bad move when the world starts to spin and I lose my balance. I suddenly feel myself falling onto my bed (Lucky for me). My brain is still working and I can't get the feeling that I...have...forgotten...something? What the fuck is it? Maybe it's something I did yesterday? The only thing I remember doing is staying at home, Stan coming to apologize to me, going to Cartman's house, seeking revenge.

Maybe it's something I didn't do?

I laugh bitterly. The only thing I didn't do yesterday was kill Eric Cartman. I want to kill-

Kill? Cartman? Death? Die...Dead!

I remember; the dream, of course! It's such a shock to me that I actually spring my ehad up from my pillows.

I had a dream, a very weird and confusing dream at that. I was...Cartman? Was I? Yeah, I was. But why the fuck was I that asshole? And he was at a funeral and Stan was there and it was raining and Stan said hurtful things to me...no, Cartman! Stan said that...shit. Stan said "it was all his fault" or something like that. Or, wait, did Stan blame Cartman? For what? The death of who ever died, perhaps. Stan was upset and...no, Cartman was upset? He was! But that's unthinkable; Cartman's doesn't have...feelings, let alone care and heartbreak...he was heart-broken. The only person Cartman ever had the slightest bit of feeling for was his mom, but that was only because he brought him stuff. Maybe his mom died? But no, this was more. Cartman really...cared about this person. Who was it? Later in the dream, he was at home and he wrote a letter...all I remember seeing was "I'm sorry"...and he had a bunch of pills and a knife and he took out his wrist and he...died? Death?

Cartman committed suicide; that statement hit me like a ton of bricks. He...killed himself?

My biggest enemy, my arch-rival, killed himself?

I don't know exactly how I feel about that...happy? Yes, I feel happy. Yeah, screw that fucking fat-turd! He fucking deserves to die! He made life hell, always have. He spread that rumour around about me, yeah screw him. I don't care if he died sad, upset and...heart-broken? I remember being him, feeling the pain take over my heart...fuck sake, Cartman doesn't have a heart! But...I felt his heart break...Screw him! Who cares! I don't care!

But I realize that what I'm talking about isn't even reality, for it was only a dream and Cartman would surely still be alive. He will be standing there as always at the bust stop in his red coat saying shit like how he wishes all the Jews were dead or something fucked up like that. Why am I getting all happy, it wasn't even real?

But...it felt so real. It felt just as real as the pain I can feel in my body. I remember all the emotions, all the feelings, all the images still present in my head; was it real?

Of course not, that stuff never happened. If it did, Stan would have phoned me by now to let me know that something had happened. If he was upset he would have come to me...wouldn't he?

But I slowly remember what happened last night. I remember how I asked him to stay in my bedroom while I sneaked out to Cartman's house for revenge. I returned and Stand was gone, my mother standing in his place. What happened to him? Is he alright? What did my mom do to him? She would never touch...or did she? No, of course not.

I feel low, miserable, confused all at once. I look to the left at my bed-side table, looking at my alarm clock that read 8:00p.m. I sigh as I stand. I walk and exit my bedroom. I enter the hallway and I walk, sluggishly, to the bathroom. I close the door behind me. I take off my orange coat, my white t-shirt that is a little stained in dried blood, take off my shoes, my jeans and gloves. I look down at my body at I sigh. My body is covered in bruises; fuck. Of course, my mom's specialty is still the microwave in the kitchen, but it doesn't mean she can't beat me once in a while. I run the water in the sink, take a sponge from the side, drench the sponge in warm water and dap it to my bruise and cuts, gently. It burns but it's the only way to stop the swelling.

As I clean my wounds, my head is filled with so many questions left unanswered. Where is Stan? What happened to him? Is he OK? Nothing is wrong with him, is there? Someone he knows didn't die, did they? And Eric Cartman...does he really have feelings? Fuck no! But...does he? And is he...dead? Yes, please yes! He deserves it, the fucker! (My stomach churns...) Was that dream real? It couldn't be, no way. But it felt so real...

By the time my confused mind stops asking questions, I have already finished mending my wounds on my body to the best of my ability. I exit the bathroom and walk back into my bedroom, no door available to close. I put on a clean t-shirt and I put all of my clothes back on. I grab my school-bag and descend the stairs.

As I make the last step, a darkness creeps over me. I turn and I see my mother on the second to last step. She smiles a fake smile at me; I smile one back, hiding the hate and fear I have deep within side me.

"When school ends, return home, Kyle," It wasn't a suggestion or a question; it was a demand, a demand with no question and negotiations.

I nod my head, showing her I understand her command.

"That's my, bubbula," She says in a sweet voice.

I turn and walk with an almost zombie like, hollow facial expression on my face. My hand touches the door handle, but before I can open it, my mother calls me:

"Oh and Kyle?"

I turn to look at her and I find that she is right in front of me.

"Y-yes, mom?" I ask, my attempt to hide my fear in my voice, failing miserably.

The darkness leans down to my face and whispers in a dangerous voice:

"Don't ever disobey me again, Kyle,"

She leaves me, standing in the living room, my hand still on the door handle, my heart-beating really fast, pain everywhere, love; nowhere, no care at all. A tear leaves my eye. I so want a mom that would love me, anyone to love! I want to die; I suddenly feel like Cartman and how he felt in my dream; heart-broken...

I close the door and leave.

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I'm the first one standing at the bust stop. It's a sunny day and the weather does nothing to help me cheer up; I'm still as miserable as ever, but I'm good at hiding how I'm feeling. After all, I've been doing it since I was a small kid. Accompanying my misery is my nerves. I'm nervous of meeting Stan, seeing him, hoping I don't see a bruise or a cut on his face (My mom wouldn't hit him, would she?), hope that he would speak to me, to forgive me...that is, if I ever do see him today. Maybe he won't show...

After a few minutes, Kenny joins me. He is mind seems to be elsewhere as his are glued to his cell-phone, looking at pictures of girls tits, no doubt. But that's fine with me; I'd rather Kenny ignore me for he would completely undetect how I'm feeling, how my body is shivering, and not from the cold.

And another feeling covers my body; worry. But I'm shocked and surprised to find that it isn't for the person I thought it would be for; it's not for Stan. It's for the person that I can't stand, the person I loathe with all my heart; Eric Theodore Cartman.

I want to deny what I'm feeling, but I feel it and I can't stop that and I hate myself for that small fact alone. But why am I worried for that, dick, anyway? The answer hits me straight away; is Cartman dead? The obvious and logical answer would be "No, of course not," But worry doesn't work like that; my brain is telling me that he "could be". And I'm scared that I'm worried about that answer. I should be happy that his dead! Why am I-?

"Kyle? Hello? Dude, are you, OK?" I hear Stan's voice and I shake my head. Stan's standing in front me, his brown eyes looking at me with worry. I don't feel worry for him...

"Oh, Stan!" I say, a little too surprised. "Sorry, I was...daydreaming,"

"About what?" Kenny asks with a filthy smirk. "About girls?"

About Cartm- wait! You wasn't thinking about that sick fuck!

I hear Stan laughing. I Shake my head, again; gotta stay concentrated.

"Don't do that too much, dude," Stan says with a grin. "You'll get a mind-grain,"

I laugh, tentatively and Stan catches on.

"Are you sure your OK, dude?"

Well, might as well say it now...

"Err...yeah, I'm fine, Stan," I look at him in the eyes. "But...are you, OK?"

Stan flashes me a confused expression. "Yeah, I'm fine, Kyle. Why do you ask?"

I gulp, hard. "You wasn't in my bedroom when I returned last night..."

"Why the hell are you two talking about?" Kenny bursts out, asking, giving me and Stan a curious and confused expression. "Is there something you're not telling me..." Kenny smirks another filthy smirk...

"What?" Stan and I shout out.

"You're getting the wrong idea, Kenny!" Stan shouts at him, angrily.

Kenny murmurs "Whatever you say..." Stan rolls his eyes and I continue to speak:

"I'm sorry my mom found you," I say in a apologetic voice. "I should never have asked you to stay in my room; it was stupid of me, I know. And I wasn't thinking right and-"

"Woah!" Stan has his hands up. "Calm down, dude!"

I do and wait for him to speak.

Stan sighs. "I stayed in your room just as you asked me to do. Your mom started banging on your door, threatening to smash down the door. I didn't want her to be angry with you so I opened the door. When she saw me and asked where you were I said that I didn't know. She then, as punishment, walked me home and told my mom what had happened. I'm grounded for two weeks, dude,"

I feel terrible for putting Stan in such a predicament. I had no idea that my mom would do that. But I'm also a little thankful that was all she did and nothing close to what she did to me. I can't help but feel a little proud of my best friend...

"I'm so sorry, Stan!"

"Don't be," Stan says simply. "I'm your best friend, Kyle. I'll do anything for you,"

At that moment I couldn't resist the urge to hug him.

"What the fuck are queer-o's doing? Making out or something?" It was the irritating and annoying voice of Eric Cartman. I should be angry. I should be pissed-off. I should have hit him with a comeback. I didn't. I felt...relieved? What? Yes, relieved? Eric Cartman was still alive, so did that mean my dream was...just a dream?

I and Stan took are arms away from each other.

"Fuck you, fat-ass," Stan says in a angry-filled voice, glaring all the while. "Why don't you go and be by yourself?"

"Why should I?" Cartman asks. "It's more fun pissing off the Jew and his boyfriend..." He flashes a devious smile.

Why don't I say something to him? Where's my come-back? Say, something anything! But before I can, Stan is already got Cartman by his throat.

"I am not Kyle's boyfriend!" Stan screams into Cartman's face. Stan has been angry at Cartman before...but never like this. "So stop joking about it and go and be by yourself!"

Cartman's face turns a dark red color, finding it hard to breathe.

"Help...me...you...poor...piece...of ...crap..." Cartman breathes out to Kenny. Kenny shrugs his shoulders.

"After you called me that, you can forget it,"

I can see Cartman is struggling under his control. And I feel like I should...help him? But it's not Stan I want to help; it's the fat-fuck who is struggling from breathe. But he deserves this, doesn't he? He started that rumour; he made my life even more shit at school? I look at Cartman and his eyes are looking at me...pleading? I should let Stan choke him...

I don't.

I walk up to Stan and put a hand on his shoulder. "Stan, let him go, dude. Can't you see your gonna choke him?"

Stan turns his head and looks at me like I've gone mad. "You're trying to defend him? After what he did to you?"

He had a point; Stan had a very good point. After everything Cartman had done, and yet, here I am, defending him? That just didn't add up...

"I'm not defending him," Which was obviously a lie...no, I just don't want Cartman to get Stan arrested. "If you choke Cartman, you'll end up in prison, Stan. Don't do it..."

For a second, Stan looked as if he was making up his mind, on the verge of choosing between each choice.

"Please..." I beg.

He hears my voice and lets Cartman go, who falls to the snow filled ground. Cartman coughs and sputters up a bit of blood onto the snow making it a deep crimson color. Stan stands over him like...the darkness. I stand where I am, realizing why I had just saved Cartman from Stan's anger; I know what it feels like to be at the mercy of someone, something...And I...fuck.

"Don't you ever make fun of Kyle again," Stan says in a dangerous voice.

"Don't you ever disobey me again, Kyle," I hear the darkness say in my head.

I'm scared...confused...I saved Cartman?...he was being hurt by the darkness...no, Stan is my best friend and...Cartman could die anytime, anywhere; what if the dream was true? No way!...maybe...

I see Cartman stand in front of us, Stan by my side now, Kenny beside me, also looking away from his cell and at Cartman. Cartman's eyes are teary, but that could just be because Stan was straggling him so hard.

"You don't want me to hang around you guys, anymore?" Cartman asks in a angry...sad, upset...voice? His arms out wide, gesturing to himself, making himself look tough. "Fine! I'd rather hangout with myself than hang around with you gaywards! Screw you guys, I'm going home!"

And he turns around on his fat-ass and walks down the street, snow slowly falling from the sky (Where did the clouds come from?), back towards his house, back to eat Cheesy Poofs, and control his mom. My fists clench.

But before he gets out of ear shot, he turns back and shouts:

"If anything happens Jew, don't blame me!"

His gone...

What the hell did he mean by that? I didn't have long to ponder on the question for the bus had already arrived. Stan and Kenny climb on.

"You getting on, dude?" Stan asks me, noticing that I'm still standing in front of the bus door, my heading looking in the way Cartman had walked home. I turn to look at him.

"Yeah," I answer. I get on the bus and take a seat next to Stan. I'm happy that his still my super best friend and my nerves for meeting him today seemed like a really silly thing to feel.

But, what scares me the most is another feeling I felt today. A feeling that was stronger and more powerful than the feeling I had for Stan. The fear I had for the person it was for. My worry for Cartman overcame my nerves for Stan, and that just didn't make sense. Stan is my super best friend and Cartman is the asshole I can't stand, so why did I feel more worried for Cartman that nervous of Stan? I feel bad because it's like I'm betraying my friendship with Stan. Stan would always come on top, so why did Cartman win?

And I saved Cartman? Why did I save him? Why? There has to be a reason...

I don't care.

He was being strangled by Stan just like the darkness would beat me... at the mercy of another...

I don't care.

And what if he dies? What if my dream comes true? Why am I getting so worried about all this? I hate the fucker...

I don't care.

I keep telling myself that over and over again cause it's the only thing that will keep me believing it...

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**A/N:**

**Another chapter done and finished! :)**

**This is my fav chapter so far!**

**I really loved writing this chapter because you saw how Kyle's relationship with his mom affected him in his childhood years and into his teens. It is because of how Kyle's mom acted to him when he was a child that Kyle is the way he is; smart, self-reliant and resourceful. So yes, I really did love writing about Kyle's mom and Kyle's anger, confusion and frustration to how he treats him.**

**This chapter was to show how Kyle deals with the dream he had about Cartman dying and shows that he is confused about how he feels about it, his feelings and brain having a war about what he thinks and feels. Also, this chapter has connections between Cartman and Kyle (Stan strangling Cartman; Kyle's mom beating Kyle, etc...). And of course, Kyle is worried for Cartman's well-being. I guess you can say, this chapter changes everything what Kyle believed to be true. Some of you may be asking "Who started the rumour? I want to find out!" Don't worry; all will be revealed in due time...**

**Oh, next chapter will be in Cartman's POV; we will see how he is dealing with the knowledge that Kyle might die...**

**For me personally, I think this chapter had some of my best writing. But that's just me... :)**

**I haven't finished making the new CartmanXKyle vid that I'm working on yet and I'm sorry about. I will let you know when it's done by posting the URL in the A/N of the next update. :)**

**Please leave a review telling me what you think of the chap! **

**Reviews will be used as confidence boosters! :)**

**Don't forget to put the story on alert if you want to be the first to find out when a chapter is posted.**

**Until next time, my fine readers! :)**


	7. Passion From The Jew

**A/N:**

**Again, thank you so much for all of the encouraging and supportive reviews! It is because of your wonderful reviews that motivated me to write this chapter, so thank you to all who had reviewed the last chapter! :)**

**So, we've seen how Kyle is dealing with the knowledge that his enemy, Eric Theodore Cartman, is going to die; let's see how Cartman is dealing with the fact that the Jew rat that is Kyle Broflovski will die...**

**Sorry about any grammar and spelling mistakes!**

**Enjoy! :)**

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Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

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**"I want to kill him...but he worries about me? Does he?"**

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**I'll Try To Fix You**  
**Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 7  
Passion From The Jew **

I saw him. But he was just standing there and he was just being his normal annoying, smart-ass, money-grabbing, Jew-rat self! Nothing was wrong with him! He was a Jew and that all he was, that was all he'll ever be to me; a Jew. A low-life Jew that deserved to be killed at birth, on site with a gun, no questions asked, and I will be the one to kill him. I would be the one to lick his pouring blood that will drip down from his head, causing a puddle of blood on the ground beneath.

His kind killed Jesus, did they not? One of his kind was Judas, a good friend of Jesus Christ himself. And what did he do to Jesus? Just stabbed him right in the back like any other god-damned, back-stabbing Jew! His like the king of the Jews himself! He betrayed Jesus! So shouldn't it be right that the rest of them, all of the other worthless Jews, should die by the hands of the Christians? Shouldn't it be right that they should all pay from what their "King" had done all those years ago? Shouldn't I, a Church goer, be allowed to pull the trigger on every single last one of them? Shouldn't I, Eric Theodore Cartman...shouldn't I be allowed, have the fucking right, that authoratah, to pull the trigger on Kyle Broflovski! Shouldn't I? Fucking shouldn't I? Yes is the god-damned answer! Yes, I should!

If anyone (or anything for that matter) is going to kill Kyle Broflovski, it is going to be me. I want to be the one to see the fear and confusion in his eyes when I take the gun in my hand and put it against his head. I want to be the one to pull the trigger, hearing the "Bang!" goes off, seeing the Jew fall to the floor, blood pouring out of his head. I want to be the one that stands over his body and look down at it with a hateful frown on my face but at the same time, a satisfied and happy grin placed on my face. Yes, I will be the one to kill Kyle Broflovski; I will be the one to revenge Jesus Christ, killing all the Jews for the hideous crime their ancestor had committed those two thousand years ago. And Kyle Broflovski will be the first one to feel the full force of Jesus' revenge...

I'm going to kill Kyle Broflovski...not some pitiful monster! If anyone deserves to kill that boy, it's me! No-one else and only me. Like some monster can actually kill him anyway! Like that would ever happen to him! It was only a fucking dream, a dream that means nothing to me, nothing at all.

But...why does my stomach churn whenever I think about it? If I have nothing to worry, if the dream isn't real then I shouldn't be- I'm just hungry! Yeah, that's it; I'm hungry. I haven't eaten all day, which is surprising, even for me. I completely skipped breakfast, ignoring my mom who greeted me in her over sweet and "caring" voice as I landed on the bottom step. She told me that a plate full with toast, eggs, pancakes dripped in syrup, mushrooms and friend tomatoes was waiting for me in the kitchen and I could already smell the numerous lingering aromas of the list of foods she had said to me, all mixing together in the air to create a wonderful smell. But despite the delicious smelling food that I would never reject in a right-state of mind, I walked right past my mom and headed for the door without saying a single word to her.

I just wasn't hungry...you got a problem with that, bitch? Even I as awesome as I am, have a share of a few days when I'm not my brilliant self! I just wasn't in the mood, so stop looking at me with suspicious eyes. I'm fine. I'm fucking fine!

But...is the Jew fine?

I shake my head. God-damn it, why am I thinking about him! I'm suppose to hate the boy, not worry- no, I didn't say worry! I never worry about him! I wish he would die! I want him to die, remember? I don't care about him at all. But...why is my head swimming with such persistent thoughts of worry for him? Maybe I'm ill; It would explain why I didn't eat the usual meal I have in the morning. Yeah, maybe that's it; maybe I'm ill.

Now that I think about it, I don't think my mind is in the right mind-set at all. I mean, did you see the way I reacted, respond to Stan's threatening behaviour! That god-damn hippie! I'll kill hi if he ever does that again! I should have been faster, should have punched him in his pretty-boy face and beat him to a pulp while I'm at it. I should have insulted, called him names, anything! Not let him fuck me up in front of the Jew! And the Jew just stood there and stared at me and he did nothing. He didn't laugh, didn't egg Stan on to kill me, didn't insult me; he just stood there. And, for the faintest amount of time, I was sure I saw...worry? No, it couldn't be, and perhaps I was just seeing things (For I could hardly see out of my eyes because Stan was strangling me so much that my eyes clenched shut)...but, did Kyle look worried for my wellbeing? Fuck no he didn't! I was just seeing things, or not seeing it, or...fuck.

But, in the end, the Jew even surprised me. He surprised me when he asked Stan to stop what he was doing. I was surprised when he could have let Stan kill me, but didn't. I was surprised that he saved my life. Now I'm exaggerating! He didn't exactly "save my life"; he just merely intervened in Stan causing harm to me, that's all! But he could have let Stan hurt me...and he didn't. He stopped Stan. He saved me? So...does that mean he was worried for me? The same worry I felt when I awoke and-

Your losing Eric, I whisper to myself even though nobody is around to overhear me. Your losing it; keep your cool. Be your awesome self. But that hardly changed anything. It didn't change the fact that my head was dark thoughts about him, it didn't change the fact that he saved my life...it didn't save the fact that he looked worried for me...you don't fucking know that! You don't know what you saw, remember? You don't know so stop insisting that he was "worried" for you when you don't even know that yourself! And why do you care about that, anyway? You hate the boy; you're gonna kill him remember? Remember what his kind did! You're going to kill him...

But I even doubt I'm going to.

But even if I don't, my little plan will certainly finish Kyle off. The plan to ruin Kyle Broflovski's life is set to go off someday today, and the best thing about it is that I don't even have to be present to start it; it was probably in full swing as I walk back down the snow filled street. I take a look at the watch on my left arm wrist; it reads 8:15p.m. Those assholes were already at school by now and, little to their knowledge; my plan is going to kick start. What my plan is, I'm not going to confined in telling you; you can go and fuck yourself! You will find out just as everyone else at school will find out. Oh this was going to be good, too bad I'm not there to see the face on Kyle's face when I see him. Maybe I'll go this afternoon just to take a look at the damage my plan has done (or will do).

Looking upon the expression on the Jew's face will be more than enough to satisfy my needs. His painful expression will be just enough for me to get over how those assholes didn't want me to hangout with them this morning. Well fine, I didn't want to hangout with those fuckers anyway! I hate them all! Fuck them. I hate them. Especially the Jew...and if he wants to go off and get himself hurt...I say let him do it. He can't blame me for not trying to stop him. But that dream wasn't real, Eric! You don't care!

But then, why was I relieved when I saw him standing there this morning by the bus stop, standing there in his ugly normal Jewy clothes. Why did I feel content that he was safe? And why did I look at him as if he would fall dead? Why did I care? Why? Fucking, why? I don't care...do I? No, fuck off!

I hate you Kyle Broflovski!

I swear to god, I hate you!

And as I exclaim these statements in my head, I come to halt. I blink rapidly and realize that I am standing in front of my front door (My body must have dragged me here without me realizing it), snow falling all around me, the wind bring a chill to my face. Not wanting to stay in the freezing temperature outside, I open the door and head inside into the warm, which engulfs me in one swift swoosh.

It's not exactly dark in my house but it's not exactly light either; it's probably in the middle if that's even possible. I don't shout to my mom, signalling to her of my return, screaming to her for a bag of Cheesy Poofs, for I know that she won't be in anyway; she's probably out fucking some guy, whoring her own body for money and getting high at the same time. And it fucking pisses me off that she does this cause my friends have always called my mom a "crackwhore" and now, for once in their useless life's, they right in what they say to me. Fuck her and fuck them! I don't need anyone, anything. I like being by myself. I like it...

I walk towards the kitchen and I grab a bag of "Cheesy Poofs" from the kitchen counter. I also grab a soda and carry my snacks back into my living room. I turn on the TV; Terrance & Philip is on, of course. I start eating away at the cheesy goodness and take a sips from my fizzy beverage now and then. I don't really concentrate on watching the TV, actually; my brain is more focused on what is happening at school...whether my plan actually worked, and what is happening at this time.

I only hope that it's nothing to big. I only hope, as my eyelids fall shut, that my plan had failed...

* * *

The first thing I hear when I wake up is a female giggling; my mom giggling. A male voice is talking, saying sexual things to hear that makes her giggle some more like a school girl or something. It makes me sick.

When I open my eyes, I realize that the room is darker. I look outside and I see grey clouds covering the sky, snow still falling from the sky. How long did I sleep for? Three hours? More?

I find my mom walking towards the stairs, a guy by her side speaking seductively into her ear causing her to giggle, an arm draped around her shoulder. They are bother unbalance, both drunk, no doubt and no surprise there. I sit up from where I was previously resting and stand up, dusting off the "Cheesy Poofs" that were on my front (Lucky for me, my soda didn't spill).

My mom and the guy she brought home (Which is a usual thing she does every time she goes out for sex) are almost to the stairs. I didn't, and can't, see the guy's face so I have no idea who he is; I was, however, certain of his motives for being here; sex with my mom. I hate him and hate any other guy that touches my mom. But my anger towards my mom, my anger at what she is doing to hers elf, is far more larger.

I and my mom always did have a great and knowing relationship; we both knew each other and we both knew our roles. I was the child for she put her heart and soul into, obeying my every command and satisfy my every need and want. She was my mom who i could, so purposefully and intently, control and command without any questions. She would do whatever I say, give whatever I want. And that was how I liked things.

It was only a shame that things couldn't stay like that forever, for life came knocking for me and her. Losing her job as a clerk at a grocery store and with ongoing warnings of notices from evictions from the house from unpaid bills, mom saw it fit to make money and to make it fast. She used what she had; her body. She was giving head to guys for free before she was in any financial problems, but now she was doing it for money. The guys she slept with were all scumbags, all with a criminal history and a list crimes committed as long as my and your arm. I hated everyone of them, for I had meet them due to my mom's hospitality of bringing her customers home to her house for the rest of the night. They were all such scumbags that must were into drugs. One guy got my mom smoking some cannabis and, after that first joint, she was hooked. I remember her coming home one night high out of her head, smoking that shit as she climbed the stairs; it smelt of shit.

And now, here she comes home again with another guy, taking him up to her bedroom. Things had surely changed and I doubted things would ever change back to the way they were. Her role was not "mother" anymore, but more like "provider" for she does make me food, but not as much as she used to. To be honest with you (Which is a trait in my personality that is rarely seen to anyone) she hardly does anything for me anymore. As I grew older, I realized that my mom would not look after me as much as she did, so I decided to fend for myself, making dinner on my own, watching TV by myself, reading myself a bedtime story...tucking myself in at...night. I hold back tears; I'm not a pussy! Fuck you all!

I don't care about her! I don't care that she doesn't do as I say, I don't care that she doesn't give me what I want; I'm far older than that now, wiser to know that things don't work like that. Why I do care about, however, is that my mom is never around, that I hardly see her, that she doesn't ask me how my day was at school, or how I'm feeling (A thing she always sued to do...) or whether if I'm feeling ill. What I do care about is that she is selling her fucking body for sex and is fucking every guy in town and is known as the biggest slut in South Park, Colorado. What I do care about is that she has no self-respect for herself, that she lost it, and her dignity, something she lost with me a while back.

I realize that it's the small things about my mom that I miss the most; it's those things that anyone would want...no, need...that I want back. Yeah, doesn't sound like me does it? Sure, I can still be a little rotten, but I have matured as well you know? We all don't stay as the little shits that we are? Can't say the same about you though!

I don't have a mom anymore, I don't have the woman that I took for granted all those years ago, and I regret and am shameful at my actions and feelings towards her...and you better not go and tell everyone this! No-one knows about my home life; no-one, not even Kenny. So keep your big mouth shut!

My "mom" is just walking up the stairs, the guy holding on to her for support; he looks as though he is about to collapse. I make my presence known to them:

"So, your back then?" I ask in a dark voice. My mom turns to face me, unsteadily, surprise and joy written on her face when she sees me. The guy next to her is also facing me now; he is young with blond short hair and blue eyes. His eyes are hazy and he appears that he has no clue what is going on; fucking drunken crack head bastard!

"Oh, Eric..Hon...hon...sweetie!" My mom says a swirly voice. She giggles and then hiccups a little. The guy next to her laughs and looks to me; I glare back at him.

"Your Eric, huh?" The guy asks.

"Yeah and who the fuck are you?" I ask, not caring about my foul language and manners.

"Don't talk about mommy's new boyfriend like that, honey-dums," My mom says she puts her hands around his face. When I hear what she says, I almost burst.

"Boyfreind!" I exclaim loudly. "He is not your boyfriend, mom!"

"Oh, but I am, and I love her very much," The blond guy replies as he kisses my mom square on the lips in a drunken state. Suddenly, he turns his head to the ground and pukes everywhere. I jump back just in the nick time, his puke just barely missing my head.

"That's my man," My mom says proudly, patting him on the back. She looks to me. "Eric, this is David,"

"I don't care who he is, he is not your boyfriend,"

"I am kiddo and there's nothing you can do about that," Because David is heavy up puke with his hands on his knees and his head lower down, his head is at the same height as my own. He looks me in the eyes and grins. I don't like that grin; it says trouble. He ruffles my brown hair and push his hand away.

"Don't you ever touch me again, you bastard," I shout angrily at him. "If you touch me, I will kill you," I fight back the urge to punch him.

"Was it something I said?" David asks as he laughs a little.

"Eric, talk nicely," My mom says to me but I, obviously, ignore her. "Now, me and David are going upstairs so I want you to stay down here..." Without another word, without a smile or a motherly grin, my mom turns around and walks up the stairs, David already at the top of the stairs, eager for his treat.

"Mom!" I shout after her as I stand at the bottom of the stairs and look up to her. "Don't do this! His bad for you, I can tell..."

My mom turns around and looks at me with hurt in her eyes.

"You don't know nothing about him, Eric," she says sadly to me. "Now, leave me alone and don't bother me," She climbs the rest of the stairs and disappears from sight, a loud "Bang!" signalling her bedroom door being closed. I am left at the bottom of the stairs alone, by myself.

But that's not new; I'm always alone, seeing as my mom is out fucking guys, it's like she's never here anyway.

That guy David is bad news and I can tell bad news from a mile off; I want to go up there punch him in his fucking face, but I don't. I will, however, keep a close eye on him.

Close eye on him?...why is that familiar? I was keeping a close eye on Kyle this morning-

Shit.

The Jew!

My plan at school!

I totally forgot!

I look to the clock that hangs on the wall; it reads twenty five past two.

School closes in thirty five minutes.

I want to see what damage I have caused. Is Kyle all upset? Does he want to end his life? What happened to him? Maybe I shouldn't have come home? Maybe I should have went to school. I feel worried –

Worried? No! I mean...excited! Yeah, I'm excited to see what has happened. I want to see that sneaky Jew-rat's face of sadness and pain, yeah! That's what I meant to say.

And so, with visions of how I think my plan has worked out, I open my front door and leave my house, closing the door behind me, my stomach churning as I make my way to school and the damage I have caused.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I rather like this chapter, even though it's not as long as the previous chapter.**

**You get a god insight into how Cartman is dealing with the whole Kyle-could-die problem and, as you can tell from the chapter, he is rather confused and is in denial of feeling any worry towards Kyle. **

**The chapter's intention was to show Cartman' feelings and thoughts and to convey a feeling of confusion and denial. It is also to compare Cartman's mother figure and Kyle's from the previous chapter and you notice that both boys are in need of a mom. You see that Cartman is in just as much (I f not, more) in need of a mom than Kyle himself. Common ground that they both have. You also see the emotion state Cartman is in and how he has, somewhat, matured over the years from fending off by himself without him mom.**

**I hope you guys liked this chapter enough to review it! Please tell me what you thought of it!**

**Reviews will be appreciated to the fullest of my heart! :)**

**Again, still haven't finished that CartmanXKyle vid yet, but it will be done soon; I will post link once it is completed and uploaded to YouTube!**

**P.S. Snow has helped me in writing this chapter; I had the whole day off from university so yay to the weather! :)**

**Until next time everyone! :)**


	8. In Strong Arms I'm Safe

**A/N:**

**You want more?**

**You got more!**

**As always, your reviews have been most encouraging and supportive, and because of this, I am entirely thankful and grateful. Also, thank you to all who add this fanfic to their Fav's and on Story Alert! It means a lot to know that you enjoy the fanfic so much. Thank you once again. :)**

**I wanted to update this thing before Christmas, but, alas, I just didn't have enough time. What with all the organizing, socializing, planning, presents and family that was all happening, I just didn't find any time to update. So, I am sorry that this update is a little delayed than expected. **

**Think of this update as a little late Christmas gift from me to you. :)**

**Sorry about any grammar and spelling mistakes!**

**Enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

**

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**"**I need you here, I need you now...Where are you?"**

**

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I'll Try To Fix You**  
**Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 8  
In Strong Arms**

Weather it was the miserable grey clouds that loomed overhead, or the fact that my stomach was squirming with worry (Is it worry? I'm not really sure to tell you the truth…), worry for a particular person I do not wish to mention (I really hate you Eric Cartman!), or if it's the fact that many people are…whispering?...Whispering about me? Why would they whisper about me? Are they whispering about me?

I look to my right and I see a bunch of 7th grade girls who I have never seen in my life, all together in a firm knot. They stare at me as I walk by. Their faces, plain before, spread into a wide grin. Then, as I walk away, my back to them, they turn to each other and giggle, all unaware of what I know they are doing; laughing at me. Sniggering at me. At me, and no one-else. At me.

It's not just the girls, I realize as I enter the front doors of South Park High. A group of jocks, who stand by their lockers together, all looking tough and mescaline, compared to my fragile, weak, bony body, look at me with devious stares, all thinking the same thing, all thinking of nasty, horrible jokes about me. And I know what they are, generally, thinking, for one of them shouts out:

"Hey, prissy boy!" I ignore him and I know he's shouting at me; I can feel his eyes, their eyes, on me. "Where's your boyfriend?" I hear them bursting out in sniggers. I walk away feeling angry at the jeers they shun me with.

All in all, weather it is the grey clouds, the unsettling squirming that is churning up my stomach, my worry for Cart-….my worry, exceeding its limits, reaching boiling point, weather it was any of those facts, or the reason that everyone in the entire school is watching me, staring at me with their eyes, eyes always on me, everyone's eyes, all, secretly, thinking about me, making jokes behind my back as I walk by, fits of laughter burst out. They, obviously, think I don't know what their up to, what they think….well, they're all, mistakenly, wrong.

Whatever it is, whatever feeling, big and small, something told me that today was going to be a very horrible day, indeed.

"And I tell the bitch, if you want me to give you head, your just gonna have to wash first!" Kenny is talking loudly, what about, I have no idea (Could be about anything, knowing Kenny…), but his voice is a little angry and incredulous. His voice enters my mind, his conversation in fragments, my mind not listening, not taking anything in. I assume he is talking about a girl as the subject, sex being the object…or the other way round; to Kenny, both are the same, I regret to tell you.

Point being, Kenny could be hawking and waving about anything and my mind just won't register any of it. I'm not paying attention to anything at all, my mind constantly thinking about a particular person that makes my insides go a light on fire, and shake with….worry.

I'm not the only one who is not giving Kenny the attention he wants and craves; out of the corner of my eye, I can see Stan, my best friend, stare at me with a concerned expression on his face. I'm happy that Stan is concerned with my well-being, but I don't need any attention from him at the moment; that is the last thing I need.

It's the rumor. The rumor that fat son-of-a-bitch sent out to everyone! It's all over school; everyone has heard it. Yesterday, sure, most people had heard it, but now, it was like I was news, like some kind of a celebrity sex scandal or something and everyone was gossiping about it. On everybody's lips, it was either (And I picked up in small unfinished sentences) "Kyle's a…." or "Samantha told me that Kyle Broflovski is a…." or "Yeah, the Jewish kid, he's one of those…". But I'm not! God, I wish I could just shout that out to everyone! But I can't, I won't….I know I won't…but I want to.

I hate him. I so fucking hate him so fucking much! I wish he would die and….I'm on the ground, crying my eyes out, rain is falling, I'm Cartman! And his dead and it's all my fault and…..I grab a bunch of pills and I open the cup and I swallow them and…NOOOOOOOO!...And I grab the knife and I slice…Don't, please fucking don't! Cartman, NO!...and…and…and…..

My stomach squirms some more and my forehead is dripping with sweat and I…I….hate him so much! He started this! He started this whole fucking thing! He stared this rumor, he made feel…like…this….I'm conflicted? Fuck no! I hate him…But my stomach….it's just a stomach ache! And….their all whispering about me, talking about me, making jokes, I know they are!

FUCK YOU ERIC CARTMAN!

He started this and he wanted me to feel like this! This was all a plan, a set-up! And I realize that my revenge was not deep enough, cause I want more! I want him to feel this! I want him to feel, angry….confused….conflicted? Yes? YES! Dead, worried, angry, frustrated…I want him to feel it all! And he should die-

And I'm at the gate and I'm Cartman and the person on the other side of the gat and I want to be with them but I can't. I fall to the ground, through the rain. I land with dirt in my face. Stan? You did this, he says to me. You did this all….

Flashes, images, emotions, taste, sound, feelings….it was like I was there, like it was all real, like it already happened, like I was…Cartman…like it all happened only a moment ago. But I know it's only my head playing a mean tricks on me….just as mean as the tricks people are pulling on me.

My worry is still there, I realize. It's still there. After what his done! What his doing! After everything! How much I want to make hi hurt and for him to feel this and everything! And yet, I still…worry? How? Why?

I don't know…..I don't….know….

"I mean, I have standards!" I just barely hear Kenny say; he sounds like a dream away. His voice is echoic. All the sounds around me are like echoes.

"Kyle?" I hear Stan say my name in worry. I slowly turn to stare at him, but even at the slowest speed, my head starts to go light headed, the world spins out of control. "Are you alright?"

I smile, weakly at him. I grip the table underneath to steady my balance.

"I'm…fine," My voice doesn't sound like it belongs to me; it sounds like a strangers, like I didn't move my mouth at all. It's weak and hoarse, I notice. It was a poor effort at concealing what I was really feeling. "Really, I'm fine,"

But the worried look on Stan's face does not disappear.

The room starts to go warm…no, hot. It's boiling in here! Doesn't anyone else feel it? But…it's winter? The world continues to spin as I hold on to the table, the echoey sounds and the heat making my head hurt. I'm trying not to fall over cause I'd rather be on the floor and sleep forever. It's easier to fall asleep, it is.

Eric Cartman…you…did….this….sleep….go to sleep, now!...Go to sleep…..You've made me feel conflicted and sleepy, so, so sleepy and….you are the biggest asshole….just hurt…I will make you hurt…you have broken me….and I feel weak because of that….and I want to….sleep.

"Dude, maybe you should go to the nurse's office or something?" Someone says in a really worried voice, I don't know who.

"Broflovski!" A different voice shouts out. "You look so hungry! What's the matter? Doesn't your mommy feed you enough at home? Well…that's what I hear anyway,"

I just about hear lots of voices speaking in hushed whispers.

"Shut the fuck up, Craig!" Is that…Stan? "You don't know jack shit about Kyle! Where did you hear a thing like that?"

"I have my sources,"

"I hear Kyle, the gay boy, has to scavenge through trashcans to find food to eat," That was Token's voice. Everyone is laughing at me, watching me with their eyes…stop staring at me!

"All you guys, lay off Kyle, alright!"

"Nah, we like making fun of a worthless unlovable, faggot like him," I hear Craig say.

I hear someone falling and it's not me. Stan is screaming and so is Craig. Everyone is cheering Craig on. I want to stop everything…but sleep…I want to…sleep…Go to sleep! Go to sleep! Go to-!

I feel myself falling, suddenly and quickly, off the table and into a pair of strong, warm, comfortable arms, hands, holding me and keeping me safe, everyone watching me, always watching me…They wanted to stare at something! How's this!...all eyes on me. And I fall into welcoming, undreaming, unconsciousness.

Someone saved me…

Nothing and I'm at peace….

* * *

Something and the dreading feeling returns, my head aching, my body on fire, no cold, no hot…I can't decide. My stomach is churning, doing flip flops here and there, all around, everywhere.

I feel horrible and I want to go back to sleep….

"So, how is he doing nurse?" I hear someone ask in a concerned voice. I think that's Stan's voice.

"Well, I am certain he has a fever," I hear a female voice say. "I cannot tell you any other of his symptoms for I do not know if he has any other symptoms. We will just have to wait until he wakes up, I'm afraid…"

Who is she talking about? Is it me? Am I ill? Well, it would explain why I was feeling so light headedness at lunch time. It would also explain, now that I think about, why my stomach was churning so when I was standing at the bus stop when I saw Cart- my stomach churns yet again. I feel like I'm gonna puke and maybe I am.

My body starts to awaken, consciousness taking over. My sense of balance is still present and I feel like I am lying down on an uncomfortable bed, my head resting on hard pillows. A light is on and is shining down on me, the light almost seeking through my closed eyelids. The smell of medicine and soap is in the air. I , therefore, assume that I am in the nurse's office.

I am, of course, thankful that someone had brought me here, even though I hate going to the nurse's office all together. It's not that I'm afraid or anything, it's just that I don't want the nurse to ask me to take off my clothes…you know to check my heart beat and stuff…for if she does ask, I will have no choice but to slip my clothes off and reveal to her my slim frame, my naked chest covered in bruises from my mother's anger and rage.

But I am thankful nonetheless; how I was feeling was pass "horrible". I mean, I was feeling so bad, am feeling so bad, that I actually couldn't stay awake; now that is telling you, and myself, something. I'd rather be in the nurse's office, lying on this uncomfortable bed, worried that the ultimate question is going to be asked by the nurse, than to be lying on the cafeteria floor and just staying in pure pain.

Yes, I am thankful that my Super Best Friend Stan has brought me here. He must have seen me falling in the cafeteria. He must have caught me. He was the one I felt, the one who held me in his arms. It was him, I just know it is. I smile, inwardly to myself at that thought.

How Stan was able to catch me, I don't know. The events that occurred around me while I was in an unstable condition of health, slowly return to me in fragmented memories of images and sound.

I vaguely remember Kenny talking about…girls, or a girl, or females in general; I don't know. I remembering hearing Stan asking if I was OK and suggesting I should go to the nurses office (This backs up my theory that Stan was the one who brought me here.). And then I remember someone shouting at me…about..me being gay…or something like that…Who it was that shouted at me, I don't know but they said I was gay-….no, it was something else. I remember they saying the word "mother" and saying that my "mother" doesn't feed me enough and….that's what they said. I remember Stan standing up for me telling people to back off. And then there was a lot of shouting, lots of people shouting and then, at that moment, I feel off my seat and into unconsciousness.

And I awake here, in the nurse's office, Stan present and worried for my well-being (And Kenny standing nearby too). I am filled with happiness and pride, knowing that Stan defended me and caught me when I was falling, physically and emotionally. I don't know what I would do without him.

And that is when I choose to murmur something incoherent, coughing as I do so, my eyelids flickering open, slowly.

"Nurse, Kyle's waking up!" Stan is shouting in an urgent voice. I feel his hand touch my right, which is by my side.

I try to open my eyes fully, but the light is so bright and shiny that I shield my eyes in pain and discomfort. I turn my head to the right to cover my eyes.

"Sorry, Mr. Broflovski," I hear the gentle and apologetic voice of the nurse say to me. The light is gone, away from my facial area.

I look forward and I open my eyes fully. I look to the left and see Stan standing there by my side, his face smiling down on me, his hand in mine in support. Kenny is also standing nearby (As theorized). He smiles at me and returns to his phone (No doubt looking at porn or something to that nature).

I look to my right and look up at the nurse, who is a rather short woman, with brown shoulder length hair and blue gentle eyes. She smiles weakly down at me; I would return with my own but I am too drained to do so. I must say, South Park High's school nurse is much more comfortable to look at than South Park Elementary's school nurse, Nurse Gollum, who has, sadly, a fetus conjoined to the side of her head.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Broflovski?" The nurse asks with gentleness.

I cough. "Not good," I weakly mutter, not intentionally my voice to come out so weak and quiet. I'm not even sure if she heard me.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," she replies. "My name is Nurse Gollen, nurse of South Park High," I would have rolled my eyes when she wasn't looking but I don't. It's funny how her name is almost identical to South Park Elementary's nurse name.

"I'm afraid you have a fever and I am concerned of the rate that your temperature is rising," She walks over to the heart monitor that is on the left side of my bed. Through my weak eyesight, I see the heart monitor, which reads my heart rate at 100 beats per second which, I know, is to be a normal heart rate at my age. But I look below the heart rate reading and I see why the school nurse is so concerned at my temperature; it reads 104, which I know to be estantionally over the average human body temperature at 98.6.

"For me to further my diagnostic on you Mr. Broflovski," Nurse Gollen continues to talk as she walks over to a counter on the other end of the small room we are in. "I am going to have to know if you are experiencing any other symptoms, other than a fever." And she is back by my side, a clipboard and pen in hand.

"Do you feel nausea in any way?" She asks me. "Do you have a stomach ache?"

I don't want to answer her with, for I am uncertain where my answers will lead me to. I would rather them lead me in a direction where my clothes stay on, avoiding to take them on, but I don't know what to answer her with in order to accomplish this. I decide to be honest.

I nod my head, slowly. She nods as well, a small frown on her head as she jolts something down on her clipboard, writing with the pen in her hand.

"Are you experiencing any aches and pain?"

Again, I answer her with the truth.

I shake my head with a no.

Again, she dot's something down onto her clipboard.

"Is your sense of balance off?" She asks. "In other words, do you feel dizzy? Light-headed?"

For some reason, I know this is the question that will lead to two different outcomes; clothes staying on, staying safe or coming off, my bruise revealed and everything falling. I have to think and I do think and I am thinking and I'm thinking hard and I just wanna go off to sleep again. I want to leave. I don't want to be here. I want to be safe in…someone's arms. In…Stan's arms? He was the one who saved me, did he not? And…I remember feeling safe when I was with him. Is there something between us I never noticed before?

But, I try not to think of that and I concentrate at my dilemma at hand.

"Well, Mr. Broflovski?" Nurse Gollen's asks, in an impatient voice but looks genuinely worried. "Do you feel dizzy and light-headed or not?"

And now, finally, finally know I know my answer, I speak, very quietly…

"Yes,"

To me, the whole room goes silent, even though the room is silent to begin with. To walls cave in, the ceiling crumbles on top of me and I feel like Stan is looking at me with sad eyes or that Nurse Gollen is practically screaming in horror at what I've said. But I know it's all in my head.

Nurse Gollen is writing something down on her clipboard; I hope it isn't something along the lines of "Mr. Broflovski is experiencing vertigo and I have no option but to take a look at his heart beat rate in further detail." Please, don't let it be that….

"Are you experiencing any other symptoms, Mr. Broflovski?" I hear her voice ask. "Do you feel unwell in any other way?"

I already know the answer to that. I shake my head.

"OK," Is all I hear her say.

"Well, Nurse?" Stan asks in his worried voice. "What's wrong with him? Will he be OK?"

"According to what Mr. Broflovski tells me, it seems he may have the flu virus," Nurse Gollen says out loud as she looks down at her clipboard. I relax into my pillow even though it is as hard as a rock; I am content with that answer. "But, my diagnostic may be inaccurate," I am not happy with that. "So, I think it is a good idea that I have a listen to Mr. Broflovski's heart rate with a stethoscope, just to be on the safe side,"

And my greatest fear is realized. I should have lied. I should have lied. I should have lied. God, what have I done? I dear, lord, no. There must be another way out of this. There has to be! Maybe I could say that I was lying all along…but there's no way the nurse would believe that, not now that she has seen the state I am in. No, I'm stuck. I have no choice. It's here…

"Nurse!" Stan suddenly shouts out of nowhere. "Kyle's hear-beat rate is increasing!"

And he is right for I can see on the heart monitor feel my hear racing in my chest. It's my fear and I can't control it. Shit. Fuck my life.

"Mr. Broflovski, are you alright?" Nurse Gollen is asking me and she goes to my side, worrying all over me…like a mother would do to her child…and leave bruises like the ones I am hiding underneath my clothes that will be discovered in less than a few minutes.

I am about to answer her question, telling her that I am fine, but she is already lifting me up, pulling me up so I am sitting up and is already trying to remove my jacket.

"This is worrying me, Mr. Broflovski," She is telling me as she is removing my jacket. "I need to listen to your heart-beat, work with me now, let me take off your jacket…please, Mr. Broflovski, stop resisting,"

I'm weak but I resist. I don't want her to take off my clothes. I don't want her to see my bruises. I don't want Stan to see nor Kenny. I don't want anyone to see. I resist and that's what I do.

"Kyle, please listen to her," Stan is begging with me, standing by my side. "I want to be sure that you are OK,"

"But I am OK!" And even I am surprised it comes out as a shout, a weak shout, but a shout nonetheless. Everyone stops at once. Nurse Gollen is looking at me, a surprised look on her face and so are Stan and Kenny. "I mean….my heart rate is perfectly fine. I must have had too much to eat at lunch or something and it, unexpectedly, somehow increased my heart rate or something. Look at the heart monitor, my heart rate is decreasing," And it is. Everyone looks at the monitor and then back to me.

I am steadying myself back onto the uncomfortable bed, now.

"Please," I whisper as my eyes clothes. "Just let me sleep. I think….I have a flu," But I'm not even sure that's what I have. I have had the flu before and this, what I'm feeling, is not a flu, I can tell you that.

There is silence in the room and I can feel the hesitance in the air, Nurse Gollen or Stan not knowing what to say or when to say it. Nurse Gollen goes first…

"Well, Mr. Broflovski, I will agree with what you tell me," She says in a very gentle voice, but I hear the small amount of uncertaincy in her voice. "If it is a flu you have, I recommend you go home immediately and rest up. I will have to phone one of your parents to come and pick you up,"

And my heart is beating fast again. No, not my parents, especially not..her. Please, not her! What on earth will she tell me! What will she do to me when I get home? She will be so annoyed, annoyed that her son is skipping school, not there learning and getting top grades. The heart monitor is rising yet again.

"Nurse!" Stan shouts, who is pointing to the heart monitor.

I am sitting up again now and I am removing the tube which is inserted in my left wrist. I pull it and the heart monitor is no longer reading my heart rate. I stand, too quickly, to my feet.

"Kyle!" Stan shouts in alarm. "What the hell do you think your doing!"

"I can go home on my own!" I say to the nurse who is over at the other side of the small room, her hand on the receiver of the phone on the wall. She is surprised.

I try to walk, but my balance is way off and the world starts to spin and my stomach hurts and I feel myself falling and I am caught by Stan. But it doesn't feel the same, it doesn't feel like the last time he caught me in his arms. There's strength and warmth and safety, but...it doesn't feel the same.

I weakly look up into his eyes and I beg for him to take me home. He looks deep within my eyes and he sees what I'm trying to tell him. He nods his head.

Stan, slowly, lifts me up to my full height, a supportive arm around me all the while.

"Nurse Gollen," Stan starts as he walks to the nurse, me to the next of him. He picks uo the receiver in her hand and puts it back down on the phone. "Kyle is not well enough to go home on his own. I will take him home and make sure he gets there safely,"

Nurse Gollen is quite for awhile until...

"I don't know about that, Mr. Marsh. Students, who are well enough to stay in school, are not permitted out of school-"

"Please," He gives her the old puppy dog look. "His mother is at work and so is his father. He has no-one to take him home,"

Silence and it appears that Nurse Gollen is working over what Stan has just told her.

"Alright, Mr. Marsh," she, finally, concedes. "You can take Mr. Broflovski home. I will give you a permitted out of school card, but you must return to school otherwise you will be in serious trouble,"

"Yes, Nurse Gollen," Stan says in a polite voice, nodding his head all the while. Nurse Gollen gives him a card to allow him out of school and also gives Stan a note, telling him it is to allow myself to leave the school, telling the receptionist that I am unwell.

We both leave the room, with Kenny with us. I am sure Nurse Gollen is watching us, her eyes glued to us. We walk through the corridors, walking in the direction of the school exit, and when we know that we are not being watched at all, Stan stops, causing myself and Keen to stop as well.

I look at Stan with hazy eyes. He looks curios and suspicious at the same time.

"What's up, dude?" he asks me. "Why didn't you want your parents to pick you up?"

"What?" I know what he is asking me; I just want to avoid the question.

"Are you avoiding your parents or something?"

"No, no," I, sort of, lie. And I come up with another. "What you told the nurse is true; my parents are both working and I just wanted you take me home, seeing as your my Super Best Friend and all,"

Stan seems content with this answer; the smile all on his face says it all. We continue to walk.

Kenny leaves us, saying that he has to meet a chick who's going to give him head or something of the sorts. It's just me and Stan now. A comfortable silence draws between us.

"Thanks for catching me," I whisper.

"What?" Stan asks, myself wondering if he had heard me or not.

"Thanks for saving me earlier," I say. "You know, in the cafeteria when I fell out of my seat,"

"That wasn't me, dude," Stan says with a confused expression on his face. "I was focused too much in beating the living shit outta Craig,"

And now I am really confused. I was sure it was Stan who caught me. It had to be! But he tells me it isn't. But if it wasn't him, then who was it?

"The you must have brought me to the nurse's office, right?" I ask, knowing I had to be right.

But Stan shakes his head. "Wrong again, dude,"

"Then how did you know I was in the nurse's office?"

"Well, once I and Craig had finished fighting, I saw that you had disappeared. I remembered I had suggested to you to go to the nurse's office and that was the first place I went to look,"

"Oh," And that is all I have to say for you, for I don't know what I can say to him. The things running through my head are not suitable to tell my best friend

If Stan wasn't the one who caught me, who did? Was it the same person who brought me to the nurse's office?

I want to find that person, find those strong, warm, secure arms that will keep me safe, away from "mother" and her hands of anger and rage.

In this school, someone saved me.

And that someone, I wish I had right now...

* * *

**A/N:**

**Another update posted.**

**Another chapter completed.**

**I think this is the longest chapter, not sure but I think it is.**

**The chapter wasn't initially going to play out the way it has done, but, nonetheless, I like the way it has developed and turned out. In fact, I think it's given the option and opportunity for the story to become more deeper.**

**This chapter's purpose is to show hoe Kyle is dealing with the whole gay thing (The whole school thinking his gay). As you see he gets a little paranoid. Also, himself getting ill and why he has such a fever will be explained later in the story.**

**Also, I like how Kyle is in a dilemma in the nurse's office and how he doesn't want anyone to see his bruise that his "mother" has caused. No-one knows about them, of course.**

**So, what was (or is) Cartman's big prank on Kyle? Well, it's already been revealed in this chapter but I will probably fully explicitly explain it in the next chapter. **

**I rather like the idea of Kyle being in the nurse's office, for it has a reference to the tile of the story ("I'll Try To Fix You"). **

**Well, hope you enjoyed your late Christmas present. If you did, please leve a little present in the form of a review and let me know! :)**

**Reviews will be treated like little puppies! :)**

**Thank you.**

**P.S. Hope you had an awesome Christmas and have a Happy New Year! :D**

**Until next time everyone.**


	9. It Doesn't Mean A Thing

**A/N:**

**Thank you to all those who continue to leave supportive reviews and to those who continue to read this fanfic story! It means a lot to me. :)**

**I'm sorry you've had to wait for this chapter; I've been busy and stuff. But I found time and effort to write this thing for ya! Oh, I hope you've all had an relaxing and easy transition into the new year! :)**

**Sorry about any grammar and spelling mistakes!**

**Enjoy! :)**

**

* * *

Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

**

* * *

**"**Nothing changes. Everything stays the same. It doesn't mean a thing."**

**

* * *

I'll Try To Fix You**  
**Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 9  
It Doesn't Mean A Thing**

Snow is still falling as I walk down a street lined with identical shaped houses, all decorated in a different colour. The street is darkening even though it's only past 3 o'clock in the afternoon (Probably of the grey clouds that loom over head, making it look later than it actually is). School has just finished.

I hate school. It's fucking waste of time in my opinion. I mean, why can't they just lets us learn at home. It will save money, won't it? And it will be way more convenient for me; I can learn in an environment with all my stuff and all my food and all meh stuff and mine and mine and nobody else to bother me. I like it on my own and with myself; I don't need nobody else. Which is the main reason I stay home in the first place; to stay away from people. I've been doing it more recently actually, and I realize that now as I walk down the still darkening street, streetlights flickering on as I walk past, my eyes focused on the ground, my gloved hands stuffed in my jeans pockets. Though saying that, i never really liked school when I was little and I usually left class when people, when anyone, when Kyle...pissed me off. I would jump out of my chair head to the classroom door, turn round to face the class and exclaim: "Screw you guys, I'm going home!" So, this behaviour, skipping school and stuff, it's nothing new! There's nothing wrong with me at all. There's nothing wrong with me...

It's the world that has a problem, its people. People have a problem with me when i haven't done a thing to them, where I merely try to defend myself from the animals and predatory creatures that they are. They attack and attack and attack and I just hit back, showing that I'm not afraid at all. All that people do is make your life shit. Why the fuck would you need people when you can live perfectly on your own and live a peaceful life without anyone? People just get in your way and fuck things over for you. People are worthless. No-one needs them. No-one. Not me. Fuck. You. All.

But...this is different. This doesn't feel the same. Before I skipped school cause I could and I did what I wanted to do and I hated everyone in my class. But now...now...I hate everyone. And I mean _everyone_. It's like I'm avoiding them. I haven't gone to class in like six months (I would show up now and then.) and it's not really down to choice. There's something in my way and...fuck sake. But that doesn't mean something's wrong with me! No, it doesn't mean that at all! I need to get on and just get over that hurdle and it wasn't my fault what happened because I was younger then and I-

You're not supposed to be listening to that, bitch! Get out of my head! Get out of my head! FUCK OFF!

The sound of a bell rings in the distance, signally the end of another school day in South Park High. The jocks, the popular girls, the cheerleaders, the geeks, the nobodies, everybody is filing out of the school doors, all of them more than happy to leave the building where they are imprisoned within every week day...I can just see it in my head. Everyone...even..._him_. Even nerdy Jews need to go home at some point in the day, and Kyle Broflovski, is no exception. I can see it now in my minds eyes; his walking out with his Jewy green hat and that stupid orange coat and his Jewy smile and his Jewy eyes and his Jewy Jewishness and God damnit, I hate him so fucking much! And his carrying a whole load of books and he looks...happy (The churning in my stomach falters.). And Stan and Kenny are with him and he is laughing his Jewy laugh and he looks happy and he is so happy and he doesn't have a idea, doesn't have the smallest clue, the smallest knowing reason why he is so fucking happy, that fucking Jew Rat!

He has no idea.

I saved him.

Fuck.

Yeah, I saved him and what if I did?

And why the fuck are you looking at me like that!

It doesn't mean a thing.

It means nothing

_He_ means nothing.

Not a thing.

Just a Jew.

Only a Jew.

My Jew...

I shake my head, hard. Where the hell did that come from? My Jew...? Wait, I didn't say that. Well, yeah I did but you didn't understand what I meant by that. By My Jew I mean that he is mine to do as I please. He is mine and only mine to hurt. To cause pain. To be with...

Fuck you. You just don't understand, do you? You're not worth it! I don't need to explain myself to you!

But I do, don't I? I need you to understand why I saved him...even though he means nothing! Nothing!

I started the whole thing. I started a tiny little rumour and now even one knows the rumour. I started it and I heard the rumour while I was there. Yes, I went back to school. The one place I have been avoiding for the past six months and I return, despite the fact I...can't get over...I hate people! I hate you! I went back and I saved him. It was my doing, me the reason that everyone was going to cause Kyle pain...when it should be me!

* * *

I knew the whole school was at lunch by the time I arrived, so I made my way to the cafeteria (The smell of beef burgers and fries lingered in the air as I walked down the corridor). As I opened the cafeteria doors, my eyes widened. Everyone was laughing and cheering and people were screaming "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" Two boys were fighting but I didn't get a good look at who they were. But that wasn't the reason why my eyes widened; no, far from it. On a seat nearby, on a table abandoned by everyone, in a sea of lonely table and chairs (Most were standing and crowding the two fighting boys.), Kyle Broflovski was falling to the floor. Instantly and, for some unknown reason, I ran quickly towards him, my heart beating, my forehead sweating, my stomach, still, churning, doing flip-flops and what not. He was falling, falling, falling to the floor that would cause pain to his small (so small) fragile body and-

I caught him. I saved him.

I didn't want to, but I did, both at the same time.

I felt disgusted with myself, disgusted that I have saved a Jew, but not any Jew, it was _him_!

It was Kyle fucking Broflovski.

I caught him in my strong arms, my arms just underneath his armpits, keeping him safe from the floor, safe in my grip. I screamed at him to wake up and get on his feet, but his head just rolled from side to side, his body limp, unresponsive to my yelling. He was asleep. I put a shaking hand to his forehead (Why the fuck was my hand shaking? Did I think he was de-?). His forehead was hot and clammy. Obviously, he had a temperature of some sort. He was ill which is so not like Kyle for he is always clean, always staying away from germs, always paranoid of what has germs and what doesn't. God, he's a fucking clean-oh-holic or something. God damnit, I hate him so much! And fuck he weighs like a feather, like there is nothing of him, like bone and skin and nothing else. He is so skinny and weak. And he is such a Jew and, and, and-

That smell. His smell. The smell that covers his clothes, his skin, his hot, clammy, shiny forehead. That smell that is so...I can't describe it and...he feels scared and alone in the world and he needs to be safe...He pushes towards me, leaning into my touch...He feels so...alone...and I lift him and I-

I realize what I'm thinking and I snap out of it. Where did all that come from? I don't care about this fucking Jew rat! Don't you even dare to think of that! I'm just saving his worthless, skinny ass because I owe him one, since it was me who caused this whole mess in the first place.

Seeing how he's ill and there was nothing for me to do, I lift Kyle up and grab hold of his legs, so I'm carrying him like his some girl of something. Nobody notices me leave (Everyone is still watching the fight unfold; which I learn to be a fight between Stan and Craig), and I'm happy with that. I just about hear someone shout out "Kyle doesn't get fed by his mom!" and the voice is very jeering and snidy like. I realize that it's Craig's voice who is shouting into Stan's face over where the two are still fighting; the reason why they are fighting becomes clear enough. I carry the light Jew in my arms and exit the cafeteria doors, without anyone noticing.

The rumour had spread. My plan worked. Fuck me.

I brought Kyle to the nurse, just to make sure he wouldn't...that he isn't...you know. I told the nurse I had to leave and she ensured me that I should keep in contact if I want to know how Kyle's doing. I nodded once and left without a second glance back into the room. Before I was halfway down the corridor, the nurse peered out from her office and asked what my name is. I told her nothing. Once I was sure she was not looking at my any longer, I left the school building.

* * *

And here I am, walking down a dark street, with my eyes cast down, my gloved hands in my pockets, the snow falling, my head thinking all the time of what I had done. What had I done! But I had to. It had to be done. It doesn't change a thing, does it? I still hate him. I hate him with all my heart and all being and as long as I live, Kyle Broflovski shall live in hell. And he still hates my guts so what's the deal? It doesn't change a thing. You can pray and look at things that ain't there, but it ain't real, so get on with your life and move the fuck on, bitch!

I hate him. He hates me. End of. Full stop.

But I went back to school...the one place I've been avoiding for...so long. And I go back...for him. For that Jew. I mean, that must mean something, anything, right? It must...

It doesn't!

I look up and I realize I am standing on the porch of my house, the front door, closed, in front of me. I grab the keys in my pockets and undo the front door, entering the house, closing the door with a small "Thud". I don't expect my mom to be in, so it's just gonna be me, a TV dinner and the TV to keep me company; no people, just how I like it.

If I thought I was going to have a quiet night in, I was so fucking wrong.

God damnit!

* * *

There still going at. There still fucking. And they've been fucking for almost two fucking hours now. When will they stop! When will they shut the fuck up!

I'm sitting in front of the TV, sitting on the couch, trying to watch an episode of Terrance & Phillip (So far, I have no idea what the episode is about seeing how my mom and her so called "boyfriend" David won't shut the fuck up, their moans, groans and screams are dying out the sound from the TV). The living room is dark now, the light from the TV as the only source of light. Nothing new in what I'm doing (I do this every day).

What is new is the fact that my mom is here in the house fucking some guy that I hate. Usually, around this time of day, my mom is out partying and fucking guys wherever (How the fuck do I know where she hangs out? Probably some dirty bar or something...). This is "new" and although the routine of my life has gotten dull, this new change is not one I would like sticking around. But seeing how this David guy is her new boyfriend, it makes sense that they are here fucking in the house. I always wanted my mo to stay off the streets, to stay safe, but now that I'm here trying to watch the TV and she is upstairs screaming her fucking voice, making it impossible to understand anything that is happening on the episode of Terrance & Phillip, I, somewhat, take it back.

"Would you shut the fuck up at there!" I scream through the ceiling, hoping they will be able to hear me; though I doubt it much. "I'm trying to watch something important down here!" TV is important to me!

There are still moans, groans and screams, the volume not decreasing at all. In fact, the volume increases. I'm not even sure if they heard me and are ignoring me just to spit me or if they hadn't at all and the increase in volume is nothing to do with what I screamed at them. If it's not the latter, they're both cunts.

After another half hour of endless sexual noise, I hear footsteps descend from the staircase. I jump off from my place on the couch and look over to see my mom descending the stairs with David by her side. She is wearing nothing but a bra and panties. David is only wearing his boxers which are covered in white stains, his hair is a mess and his face is contorted in to something of a goofy grin. My mom also looks pleased, but I don't see what there is to be so happy about.

"Fucking finally!" I say loudly to the both as they slowly and unsteadily walk towards me. "I thought you two would never stop,"

"Now, popsy-kin," My mom says in her happy-voice, that is way too high and swirly that I know, not by the stench on her breath or the wine bottle in her hand, that she is drunk. She's a mess. "That's no way to greet your mom and her boyfriend,"

"I don't care," I murmur so she is able to hear me through my gritted teeth.

"Aww, he's cute," David has the never to say in his swirled voice as he ruffles my hair in a uncontrolled way. I push he's hand away, immediately, showing I did not like the gesture at all...which I didn't...I don't.

"I told you not to touch me again, you sick bastard!" I scream in his face. He merely smiles and hiccups, his eyes looking down at me like I'm seven years old or something. I could have punched the guy if I wanted to...I can, can't I? Who's going to stop me?

"Honey-dums, b-b-be nice to Davidy-Wavy," She giggles as she turns to David and give him a light kiss on his neck (David is taller than my mom by a foot). "You must b-b-be nicey, Okey?" She's looking at me again.

"As long as he –" I point a finger at David, the bustard "-never touches me again, then yeah, I'll be...pleasant," I didn't want to say "nice" cause, well...when am I ever nice? And like I can promise something like that to my mom! In your dreams "nice"!

"Good boy," My mom says as she smiles at me, sweetly, drunkenly. I don't return the gesture. "I'm just gonna go and...get booze, OK, Davy-Wavy?" And my mom is all over David now, her face close to his, her hand near his groin; the sight makes me wanna throw up all over the floor.

"Sure thing, Lane," David replies as he makes out with my mom, who responses back in her own kisses. What's worse than the make out session that is happening in front of my eyes, is the nickname David gave to my mom; "Lane" from my mom's full name "Liane". It's so disgusting.

The make out session finally finishes. My mom wobbly walks over to a table where her keys and money is placed. I walk with her, making sure she doesn't topple at any moment.

"Mom, I demand that you stay at home," I shout at her. She doesn't listen. "You're in no state to go and buy anything, let alone booze that is the reason you are like this in the first place!" Again, she doesn't listen.

Before she can leave and buy her death sentence, I grab her keys and money over on the table (I was quicker for I'm not drunk and slowly moving). She stops and looks at me, baffled and surprised that I'm standing before her.

"I'm doing this for your own good, mom," I say to her, my eyes hard as rock as I place her things into my jeans pockets. "I'm not gonna let you become any more drunk than you are!"

She looks at me with confusion on her face. She just...stares at e like she doesn't know why I'm doing what I'm doing. And neither do I. I don't know why I choose today, now, to finally stop my mom from destroying her already crappy, shitty life. Maybe it's because there's a change in my lifestyle. Maybe it's because I stood up today and stopped something from happening to Ky-...to the Jew. Or maybe...I just won't my mommy back. Maybe I...I...miss...mommy? I've never stopped my mom before, but today, now I have, finally.

Confusion still plays over her face, but after a few seconds, that confusion changes into something I never my mom would express on her face; anger. And she is loathing, her nostrils ablaze, her eyes on fire.

She's at me quickly and she is shaking me; it's so fast, so quick that I am shocked to the bone, that I don't know what to do...and I am a little afraid...for the first time afraid of my mom...mommy, where are you?

"Give me my money and keys, now!" she screams, the smell of booze splashing over my face. "Give it now or I will...I will...I will-!"

And before my mom can finish her sentence, I feel strong arms around me that keep me still and rooted to the ground, my legs unable to move. I have no idea what's going on for a second, but when I look up, I see the cause to my rooted body; David. He is holding me tight, keeping me firmly in place, smiling down at me with that fucking smile of his. Punch him, let me punch him!

"Let go of me, let go of me you sick pervert!" I scream at hi as loud as I can, but he just looks to my mom and says in a swirly voice:

"Go on. Grab the keys and money from his pockets. Go get booze, Lane!" My mom walks forward and does as he says without a second hesitation.

"Don't, mom!" I shout. "His controlling you! Can't you fucking see that, you blind bitch!" Not even my offensive language can stop her. She's already at my jeans pockets by now. "He's no good for you. He's evil, he's bad! Don't mom, don't! I demand you not to do it!"

She ignores me yet again; she's grabbed hold of her keys and money and is already walking towards the door.

"Mom, please..." I say in the quietest voice possible. She doesn't hear me and leaves, closing the door shut behind her.

And why did I even bother to stop her, I think to myself as the door closes. For as this afternoon presented with Kyle, when I saved him, nothing changes. Everything stays the same.

It doesn't mean a thing.

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**A/N:**

**I was going to continue writing this chapter and lead it on to reveal something, but I changed my mind. Sorry about that but it felt right to end it where it ended. However, I think this scene shall continue where we left of in another two more chapters when we return back to Cartman's perspective (Though I haven't fully made up my mind yet).**

**Yes, as much as you guessed it, Cartman caught Kyle before he dropped to the floor in the cafeteria. This chapter was to show how Cartman is dealing with that knowledge and is to show what happened when Kyle fell but from Cartman's point of view. Also, Cartman is still struggling with what he did (Saved Kyle), and is trying to rationalise his thoughts and emotions that are brewing to the surface dangerously.**

**Also, we say how Cartman is getting on with his mother and David. We also show that David has at least some control over her for she doesn't even listen to her son when he begs her not to go out. Sad part, yeah I know.**

**If it wasn't made clear in this chapter, Cartman started a rumour that Kyle is mistreated by his mother (Although, Cartman doesn't know that what he has said is actually the truth).**

**What happens to Cartman? Well, just you wait and see!**

**Next chapter, we go back to Kyle. :)**

**Please review! They will be used as confidence and motivational booster to write more often! :)**

**Until next time everyone.**


	10. I Can't Do This Anymore!

**A/N:**

**Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews you guys keep posting for each chapter. :) It means a hell of a lot to me; you guys helped this story going, so thank you for your ongoing input.**

**Again, I apologize for the delay in updating. I've been busy on other fanfics and just life in general. But the new chapter is here, posted and waiting for you to read. :)**

**I wrote this whole chapter while I was sick in bed. Hope you guys appreciate it.**

**Sorry about any grammar and spelling mistakes!**

**Enjoy! :)**

**

* * *

Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

**

* * *

**"**People, if anyone at all who care about me, anyone at all, will know what my mind set was before ****I took the plunge..."**

**

* * *

I'll Try To Fix You**  
**Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 10  
I Can't Do This Anymore!**

As I walked home with my Super Best friend Stan by my side, helping me, supporting me all the way, with my arm around his neck, I couldn't stop the many questions that buzzed around in my head, cramping my brain, causing my head to hurt. Who had saved me? If it wasn't Stan, who I initially thought, then who? It could be anyone...but wasn't everyone more focused on the fight between Stan and Craig? So who, who would take a glance at me and save me? Everyone hated me, after all – the whole fucking school hated me. No-one would save the gay Jew boy, would they? They were more likely to laugh at me if they saw me falling, than actually save me. Who in the hell...I...why did they save me? Am I even worth saving? Am I worth it all? According to my mom, I'm not. According to my mom, I need to be "better". I need to be smarter. I need to be the best. I need...

So many questions, filled, scrabbled in my brain. In the end, I realize that I don't have the energy to answer any of them; all I want to do now is sleep and sleep for ever, cause in my sleep, things are easier. Things are simpler. In my sleep nothing bad happens; reality is the true nightmare, and sleep is my safe haven. In my sleep nothing bad happens. I'm OK. I'm fine. Everyone is happy. Everyone is alive. No-one...

...dies.

_Cartman..._

_Shit._

It all comes back to me, like a dream I wanted to forget. And I realize, I _did_ want to forget it. I did. But I remember. I remember everything, now.

Damn it.

Damn you!

Damn you, Eric Cartman.

He dies.

Soon?

Maybe, but, funny enough, I start to wonder when.

When will he die?

Is it soon?

Is it near?

Is he dead...now?

And I-

I-

He-

_Fuck. I don't care. I don't care what happens to him. I fucking hate him. I don't care if he gets run over by a car, if he dies of AIDs, if he...overdoses on...drugs. I don't care about that lard piece of fuck! I don't care...really, I don't._

Before long, before I realize it, before I open my eyes even, I'm standing in front of a door. It's blue; it's my front door.

"Well..." I hear Stan say in an expected tone of voice. "You have the keys to your house, right?"

It takes me a few seconds to catch up in what he is asking me. I shake my head, trying not only to concentrate on what he is telling me, but to also rid of the many questions cramped in my head.

"Oh, right," I mutter. I put my left hand into my left jeans pocket and I feel the metal of my keys, hear them jangle as I take them out, put them to the key hole, turn and open the door.

As I enter, I hope to god that my parents are out. After all, I lied to Stan, telling him that my parents were out working. It would be really awkward if my mom was sitting in the living room watching TV when I and Stan enter the house. I would need to explain, not only to Stan, but to my mom of the situation at hand. And I just can't handle that, not now, not ever.

Darkness engulfles us as we step into the living room. I don't hear the TV on. I don't hear the stereo on, my mom's favourite CD of Barbra Streisand on in the kitchen. I don't hear my mom's voice. I'm safe for...now.

I feel Stan pull my hand, leading me to, where I assume, the sofa is, laying me down and telling me to "rest up". He leaves my side as he turns on the lights from somewhere in the room, the lights, momentarily blinding my eyes. My eyes, slowly, adjust to the light and I can see again. Everything as it should be.

Stan is not in the room; I hear the faucet running in the kitchen and I assume he is getting me a glass of water. He returns a minute or two later, a glass of water in his right hand, a small smile on his lips. I have such a good friend. He hands me the glass of water as I sit up.

"Thanks," I say as I take a sip.

"No problem, dude," he replies as he sits by my side. It becomes, surprisingly, awkward in the room, both of us quite, silent, no eye contact. Perhaps it's the close approximaty between us on the sofa, or perhaps we have nothing to say one another. Whatever the reason is, the tension in the room is high.

"So..." Stan starts as he rubs the back of his head in an uncomfortable gesture. "Do you want me to stay and look after you or-?"

"I'll be OK," I quickly say, not letting him finish his sentence. He turns to look at me and gives me a doubtful stare. "Really, I'll be fine," I try to put as much force in my voice as possible. "I just...need to sleep,"

And that is partially the truth; I do need to sleep. However, as much as I love Stan, I need him to leave. My parents – especially my mom- could show up at any minute, enter through the front door and see us together thus causing my lie to Stan to be useless and the anger from my mom, mighty. If I could get Stan out, I could sneak out of my house, despite my desperation for sleep, wonder the streets awhile – perhaps go to Stark's Pond – and return around three thirty like I always do. My mom would be non-the wiser.

"Besides," I continue as I take another sip of water. "You need to return to school. Nurse Gollen said you have to, otherwise you'll be in trouble,"

Stan looks as though he is thinking something out. Maybe he had just remembered that small piece of information on his condition of leaving school. He slowly turns to me and says in a gentle voice:

"My best friends health is far more important than me getting into trouble,"

It's probably the kindest thing Stan has ever said to me. I smile.

"I really appreciate that, dude," And I do. "But, you should get back. I'll be fine. Trust me, dude," I give him a smile and he returns with that doubtful stare. After awhile, he sighs in defeat.

"OK, dude," He stands and picks up his school bag which he flung on the carpet. "You said me a text sometime to let me know how you're doing, OK?"

I nod my head in answer.

"Good," He walks to the door, puts his hand on the door handle and says: "Later, dude"

"Later, Stan," I reply. The door closes with a "Thud". I'm alone and, despite no-one being in the room, I whisper to where Stan was standing mere moments ago... "I'm sorry,"

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Minutes later, I'm walking along the snow covered, deserted streets of South Park High Street, snow slowly falling from the grey clouds above, lingering in the air in front of me, around me.

My head is down, my hands are in my jeans pockets and I'm thinking. Always and forever thinking, wondering, regretting, hating myself for lying to my Super Best friend, a friend who helped me when I was in need and all I did was spit back at his face for all the help and support he offered me. Yeah, I feel like such a dick, it's unbelievable.

Stan tries to be good to me and all I do is kick him. And I kick him. And I kick him until he bleeds...like my mother does to me. I try to be a good son, I better myself every fucking day and she kicks me and kick me and kicks me until...blood and bruises.

I'm doing the same to Stan. The same my mom does to me. I'm abusing my best friends trust and loyalty. And he doesn't even know it. And I feel so regretful. I feel so bad that it feels up my chest and pulls onto my heart. And twists it. And squeezes it. And...shit.

_I'm sorry, Stan._

Thorough my grief and wondering, pain-filled, confused mind, I stumble upon a familiar patch of land that myself and my friends always use to hang out around – but hardly anymore – Stark's Pond. The air is different that I last remembered it. It's quieter as well, more subdued. And the atmosphere is completely different – almost...lifeless.

I walk aimlessly between the trees that clutter here and there around the murky, misty black lake, somewhat frozen over. I feel the chill hit my face, but I don't bother to wrap up; I deserve it all. I deserve every freezing, cold feeling I feel for that's how I've felt on the inside, so I deserve to feel it on the outside. And no-one is around, the place, complexly deserted of life what so ever. I don't wanna be around people at the moment; I deserve to be alone. I do. I hurt Stan. I hurt everyone without them even knowing. I hurt everyone and it's killing me inside. And I'm hurting and my mom is hurting and my dad and my baby brother, Ike.

And everyone is.

And I want it to stop.

I want the pain to stop

To go away and never return.

I want the pain to stop spreading.

To stop it from spreading to other people.

I need it to stop.

Stan...

Cart-

NO. Not him. He isn't hurting. I'm hurting. Not him! He's...fine.

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry….that's what the letter says and that's what I'm thinking; it's best to say what you're thinking so people, if anyone at all who cares about me, anyone at all, will know what my mind set was before I took the plunge._

No. Cart- He's fine. He'll be OK. I won't be OK, however. This pain is too much to handle and I can't-

_Who does love me? Fucking no-one at all. The only person who did, who truly did love me is…dead. And I did it._

He did what? What did he do? He didn't do anything, did he? No, wait...he's always fucking things up! He did something! He did something bad and he deserves to-

_And…they changed me, made me whole, made me believe that I had a purpose in life, that I was loved._

He changed? What? That doesn't make sense! He's...Cartman! Cartman doesn't..._change. _He's always that fat fuck i hate, that Jew-bashing fat, fucking cunt of a bastard, Cartman! God, die-

_Fuck love!_

I already don't have that; I don't have any "love" to speak of. Who loves me? No-one. The whole world is laughing at me, calling me names behind my back. Causing me pain. He cares about me? No-one. And any love I did have...Stan...It's gone now because I fucked it up. I deceived them. I deceived...him. I ruined all chances. I ruined everything. There's no love...

_Fuck people!_

And I don't need anyone either. All you do is fuck people up and cause them pain, so why be around? Why even bother at all? Why try at all? You just cause shit. You just fuck it people. There's no point at all. I just ruin everything and...my mom is right. I'm nothing. I'm nothing. I'm nothing.

_I can't do this!_

And I can't do this anymore! I just can't do it any longer! I try to act happy, like nothing is going on, like everything is fine and dandy. Like I'm the best son in the world, but I'm not. I'm nothing. No-one loves me, everyone hates me, no-one cares, I lie to my friend every day I see him and I get punched and kicked and banged up and..._Mommy, help me_...

_I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry._

And when I open my eyes, I find myself standing in front of the gloomy, black, frozen lake. How I got here, how I ended up here, I don't know. And it's more of a metaphoric question for its implying to things at once; how I ended in front of the lake and how I ended up in my current situation; losing everything and having nothing.

My schoolbag is off my back; I don't know where it is and I don't care. All I care about is the lake and how cold it must be, how tempting it is to take a leap and to fall under the ice and stay under the ice forever and to never be found again by anyone, to never to hurt or be hurt ever again. Yes, the temptation is mighty. All I have to do is jump and I will never feel pain again, the cold, freezing water will was over me and wash away all my grief and pain, freezing my body forever. No pain, no-more.

So tempting...

_I can't do this anymore! I can't do this anymore! I can't do this anymore! I can't do this anymore! _The words are repeated over and over again on a paper in front of me – I don't even remember grabbing a pen and paper from my schoolbag, but I don't care. At least, this way

_...people, if anyone at all who cares about me,... _

anyone at all,...

_...will know what my mind set was before..._

I'm standing in front of part of the lake that is partially frozen and partially not. The ice looks thin, thin enough so that if a person stands on it, they will fall right through and hit the freezing water beneath.

I stand up tall and breathe slow. I'm ready. I'm ready for this, ready to end it all.

...I took the plunge.

I do.

The ice breaks, immediately, and I hit the water, my body covered in water, water that stabs me like a thousand blades. I don't worry cause it will be over soon; everything shall be over. All the pain will wash away. I'm not holding my breath and couldn't if I wanted to; the water is so cold that you'll only be able to hold your breath in the freezing water for a mere twenty seconds or less.

I start to lose consciousness as the water takes my life, little by little. Everything goes black and I'm at the end of my tether and...no-more pain ever again...

Nothing.

And suddenly I'm being lifted by two strong hands and I'm regaining my consciousness and I'm coming back and...I feel safe and I feel alive and I know why. Because...it's them. It's the person that saved me, is saving me...again. Their saving me...again. Saving me from my death, from my suicide. But...I wanted to die. I needed it to be over. Why are they saving me? Don't they know don't I want to do this?

I feel air hit my face straight away, the air warmer than i remember. My lungs are filled straight away with air and cough up water as my body is dragged out of the water and on to the flat ground of grass, two strong arms helping me all the while.

My body is soon out of the water completely and I cough up even more water. I don't open my eyes for I am way too tired to do it; perhaps the water lowered my energy levels. I don't know why. I faintly remember that I was tired before I took the plunge; explains a lot.

It's a shame my eyes are so heavy for I really want to see the person, the person who saved me, again. I want to see them and thank them.

"You stupid, Jew rat!" That's Cartman's voice. What the hell is he doing here! Don't tell me he watched the whole thing from a distance, wanting me to die; that sick fuck!

"Just what the fuck do you think you were doing!" But I realize that his voice is closing, really close. Like...right next to me.

"I thought you were smarting than this, Kahl!" Slowly, I feel the strong arms lift my whole body off the ground and into their comforting, safe hold. I feel safe, once again. I, faintly, open my eyes to look up at my savoir, but my vision is so blurry; I can hardly make out their outline. All I saw was a mixture of brown and red.

I hold on to their shirt and breath, slowly.

I smell the armour of Chessy Poofs and KFC...

"You're such a stupid Jew!"

Oh, God.

Please, no...

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**A/N:**

**Well, there's another chapter done and dusted.**

**A little OTT for Kyle's pint in committing suicide, but I tried to make it sound as understanding, rational and believable at the same time.**

**The story wasn't going to go down this route for awhile, but I realized I needed to get the plot moving quickly. The main purpose for this chapter is too show that Kyle is in a place where he cannot return from, a place where nothing is worth anything and life would be better if he was gone. That place is suicide. To properly rationalize what Kyle is doing and why he doing it, I had to show the emotional stress Kyle is going through with his friends and family and how everything in his life has just gotten too much for him. With no-one to love or to care for him, with all the pain he is going through, he believes death is the only way out. Thank god Cartman was there to save him. :)**

**And of course I had to make Cartman save him; it's the only way I can get them both together at now Kyle knows who saved him, who he felt so safe with; he's reaction at the end says it all. lol. Would be interesting to see how things will develope from there.  
**

**So, possibly, the next chapter will be Cartman helping Kyle out back at his house. Still not sure, really.**

**By the way, I used a whole section from "Kyle's Dream" in "Chapter 5" to show how related both events are to each other. Hope some of you picked up on that.**

**And yes, I wrote this whole chapter while I was sick in bed with a cold.**

**Reviews would be appreciated as always. Would love to hear what you think will happen next and how you think I did with this chapter (Despite my sickness). :)**

**Until next time my foxy readers and reviewers.**


	11. I Saved The Jew

**Share this story via Facebook, Twitter, Bebo, E-mail, etc. **

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New Twitter account:** #mpkio2**

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**A/N:**

**Thank you for the on-going support in reviews that you guys constantly show this story! I appreciate it very much so. You all hit that review button like there was no tomorrow and made me extremely happy! :)**

**I'm sorry for the long 3 month wait for this chapter; I've been, unfortunately, busy in life in general with family and with Uni work (Damn you assignments!) and I've been concentrating on other fanfics, leaving this one unattended. But I've broken up from Uni for a 4 month Summer break, which means more time to write! wOOt wOOt! **

**OK, enough from me; on with the story...**

**Sorry about any grammar and spelling mistakes!**

**Enjoy! :)**

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**Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME STRONG SCENES OF A SEXUAL NATURE THAT MY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR TEENAGERS UNDER THE AGE OF THIRTEEN.**

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"**Your life is so fucking perfect!...so why would you do something like this?"**

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**I'll Try To Fix You**  
**Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 10  
I Saved The Jew**

Stupid Jewrat!

Just what the fuck was he thinking? Why the hell would he do something so fucking stupid and retarded? God, I thought he was a lot smarter than that; I thought he was the smartest kid in class; I guess I was hugely mistaken!

Why...would...

He...

Attempt...

That?

Why would he fucking do it?

I thought...

Well, he is Jewish and all, and you know how sneaky they are; one minute their smiling at you, the next their crying and are covered in cuts and bruises and a monster is over them and Kyle wants to die and-

Wait? What? Where did that-?

The dream...

The dream of Kyle dying from a monster...

The dream I thought was happening right before my eyes.

The jew was lucky I was nearby, he was lucky I saw him, saw him crying, saw him...attempting something. Fuck, he was lucky I was around to save him. If I wasn't around, he would be dead. And I just-

No, fuck off! It's not like that! Fuck you, bitch! It's not like that at all! You think I saved him cause I care about him? What messed up things are you thinking? I didn't save Kyle cause I care about him; I did it cause, if anyone's going to kill the filthy little Jesus-killer, that would be me!

Don't you remember what happened all those years ago with the Imaginationland fiasco, back when we were all kids, where Kyle got attacked by the freaky looking Man-bear-pig...or Pig-man-bear or...whatever the fuck it was, and I saved Kyle? Well, it was because that jew owed me big time! I bet against him that lepricorns are real and, guess what, bitch? I was right! And you know what? That freaking jew didn't even suck my balls as my reward for being right! He got away with it, like all the times he gets away with things! See! So freaking sneaky and snidy and...god I hate him!

I hate you Kyle Broflovski!

Anyway, the point is, I saved him cause...well...I saved him and, as reward, I think I should finally get what I've been waiting for all these years, don't you agree? Yeah, I thought you would side with me- what? You don't agree? Well, fuck you! He is overdue in paying me and when he asks in his high girly voice: "Oh Cartman, how can I ever repay you?" I'll just smirk and say "Suck my balls," And god be my witness, he will do it! I saved the fucker! I need to be paid! I saved him cause of my own gratification, to overpower that jew, to get back at what he's done to me all the years, to feel total domination over him, to feel-

I see a dark creature loom over me, it's red eyes pierce me down as if I was filth of the earth, completely disgusted with me. It looks as if it wants to kill me, to kill me and kill me over and over again, to wipe clean off. The look it gives me could kill me even and- Shit, that's hella scary! It's claws lunge at me straight away and it hits me again and again, one, two, three, four times and five and six, and with each blow, I'm scratched on a different part of my body, feeling the claws dig in deep drawing red blood that pours out and leaves me cut and bruised and – seven, scratch on my leg and seven, cut across my arm and eight, lash across my torso, a huge wipe cross my face and...fuck, the pain is so...it hurts and I want to die and die and die and...the creature looks at me and I back up and I close my eyes cause I know this is the end and I scream until I die and-

I shake my head, furiously, coming out of the vision I swear that looked so real and felt so familiar, as if I've been there before...but, I hadn't so, it wasn't me. I'm surprised to find that sweat slowly descending along and down my face, my heart beating rapidly behind my ribcage. Fuck, that felt so real but...it couldn't because I'm still alive, but I've seen it before...

Where?

The smell of Kentucky friend chicken enters my nostrils warmly, invitingly, causing my stomach to rumble with hunger and anticipation of the crispy skin that I was about to devour. I eat the crispy skin, hoping it would make me feel refreshed and satisfied (Like I always feels after KFC), but, surprisingly, I am disappointed to discover that it doesn't.

Strange; it usually does the trick. Maybe it's the weather?

I look out the kitchen window and see my back yard (Which is a total mess and in need of a good clean up; don't my lazy whore of mom ever do anything in this god-damn house?), which is wet from the rain that falls from the dark, grey looming clouds overhead. Puddles are everywhere on the ground. This is an odd thunder here and a lightning there. The weather is god-awfully depressing.

Yeah, defiantly the weather...

I feel a frown spread across my face as I get off a chair behind the kitchen table, leaving the crispy-skin-eaten pieces of KFC chicken in the bucket it came with, leaving the rest for my mom and her dick of a boyfriend, David, to eat whenever they came back from their spree on hunting for drugs and partying. I don't need them...but why did I leave them food to eat if they won't return any time soon?

I don't answer that question; there isn't any point. For if my whore of a mom wants to go and waste her life by partying and fucking some guy who doesn't even care about her, let her do it; I don't care anymore. I give up her; I didn't use to, but now I do. It wasn't until yesterday that I had persuaded my mom to give up on that asshole, David, and just live with me and be a...mom.

But of course, what did she, like many people I had met before, do? She didn't listen to me; she ignored me, fully. She walked out that door and spent the money while David kept me in a headlock. She just looked at me as if...she didn't know who I was and...fuck you, fuck you, fuck you...even when I...pleaded for her to stay...she didn't.

And that dick, that fucking prick! What he said to me after she left...

* * *

**1 Day Ago...**

The front door had just closed with a "slam", my mom leaving me alone with her so-called-"boyfriend", David, taking the money I had forcefully taken from her, in order to stop her from spending it on drugs as she was intended to use it for.

When my mom had left the house, David, suddenly, picked up my body with two strong hands and slammed me against the wall of the living room, slamming my head against a mirror which "smashed!" and fell to the floor in broken pieces; my head felt like it was in broken pieces. I could feel blood dripping from the back of my head, my focus becoming drossy...

"Listen here you fat little shit!" David screamed into my face. "Open your eyes when I'm talking to you!" I tried my best to, but I just wanted to go to fucking sleep...and even if I tried to keep my eyes open, they would drop. Fuck.

Somehow, I manage to keep my eyes open, fixed on him.

"You are not going to interfere with me or your bitch of a mom ever again," David said in a dangerous voice, pushing my head harder against the broken mirror. "If you do, I'll make sure that you won't have a mom, if you get my drift..."

I knew he was bad news, I knew he was no good for my mom! I could tell, always tell that he was an asshole; the guys my mom picks always are...

But this asshole, he was smart and sneaky (I wonder if he's a jew...?); instead of threatening my life, he threatened my mom, cause if he did threaten my life, I would try to kill him before he could kill me, but because he threatened my mom, there's no way I can get to him; he'll be on to my every move and will be suspicious...fuck.

"Do I make myself clear?" he asks in the same dangerous whisper.

I don't want to nod me head and admit defeat; I was never that sort of pussy person anyway. But...mom...

I nod my head. He smiles evilly; I flinch back. I have always shown people my evil smile, gaining power over them and showing who was in charge and I never really know what it felt like what it was to have someone give you a evil smile...until now. I can see what it looks like for the first time and...I don't like it.

"Good," he says, smirking, lifting me down to the floor, but holding me still with a arm against my body, a glint entering his eyes; a glint I don't like the look of. "And seeing how your mom isn't back yet..."

The glint is there and bigger than ever; it looked like trouble was coming to me...

"Let's have some fun..."

Suddenly, I feel a firm hand touch my dick and balls through my jeans.

"W-what the f-f-fuck are y-you doing?" I was able to stutter out in an exclaim of pure defiance. He touched harder and I struggled from his hold on me, trying to get free and way from his sick and twisted ways-

Shit. It's just like last time, just like the other guy mom had as boyfriend. The way he touched me dick when my mom was out of the house, partying, keeping me in the house with him, that twisted sick freak who jerked me off and used all sort of sick ways to get him off, like kissing him and sucking and...I was only nine years old fo-f-for suck sake!

Come on! Hold it together, Cartman! You're strong; you've gotten through so much...

The way he pulled on my erect dick hard, jerking me and causing me to squeal out in surprise, and the way he practically forced me to suck on his di-

This is the reason why I'm always out of the house; to avoid anything like this happening to me again. It's the only way I can be assure that any of my mom's _boyfriends_ don't get to me because-

But I can't get away; he's too strong for me, holding me against the wall with one arm against my torso to keep me in place and the other touching my dick and balls.

_"Don't you ever touch me again, you bastard," I shout angrily at him. "If you touch me, I will kill you,"_

But I can't kill this guy; he's on to me. Even if I did try, he would be suspicious and then he would kill...Mom! Help me! Fucking help me you whore!

But of course, like last time, she won't help me; why you ask? Because David will tell my mom that what-ever I tell her (Her fucking son!) isn't the truth. So, really, there is no point in telling my mom what David is doing to me, cause, like last time, she won't believe me, the mirror will be replaced and the David will be Scott-fucking-free. Fucking hooray for him!

And so, with nothing else to do, I give up in forcing my way out to freedom and allow David to go along with sick and twisted way. As he kisses me square on lips and jerks my dick, I think about someone with a green-hat and wonder what they are doing...

* * *

When I return to reality, I startled to see that I am already standing in my dark living room, light not coming through any of the pulled curtains that cover the windows, shadows everywhere in the room I stand in; but I don't care anyway...For my whole life I've been living in the shadows fucking h-hiding shit that I don't want anyone else to know, so why should I open the curtains allow light in to the room? The world laughs at me anyway; well fuck them! Everywhere knows (Even you know, now, bitch!) and I know they are laughing at me behind my back. They all know the sick truth behind me and I don't let them have the satisfaction at all.

If everyone is going to act clueless in front of me and laugh behind my back, then so be it; I'll just be a dick to everyone and anyone I come in contact with in my life. If the world is going to shun me, I'll shun them back! I'll give them the finger, fart on their face and make them eat up their cut up parents in the form of chilli! I'll attack them before they can attack me.

I know their laughing at me, and...and...

I clench my fists tight, close my eyes tight, shaking, shaking, shaking all over...

_He_ especially knows...

_Kyle..._

The jew...

He's probably the one going around telling everywhere about it..yeah! He is snidy and a jew after all so he's obviously two-faced, yeah that's it! Its Kyle's doing! It's him making me suffer and only because he's life is so perfect that he wants others to suffer, that fucking jew prick. He probably-

He attempted suicide, part of my brain remembers. If he's life is so perfect, why would he try to kill himself? Why would he do that? It doesn't make sense...

Maybe it's cause he's a jew and he just couldn't handle-

The monster is over me hitting and scratching and punching and kicking and I feel blood spurt out somewhere, anywhere, everywhere, all over my body. I look to my right and I see a scrawny teenage kid, cuts and bruises all over him, a green hat on his red hair; his reflection is appalling and-

Why is he here in my house? Damn, why did I bring him back here for? He's just in my way and he's laughing at me behind my back. Why is he here?

Fuck, he just had to screw my whole day up, didn't he! That fucking jewrat; he did this on purpose; I know he had this all planed out just to screw up my day! That asshole! Fuck him!

All I had to do was go out and buy some KFC; that's all I wanted. I passed Stark's Pond cause...it's peaceful and I like to stroll past the quiet lake which is iced over, the wind blowing silently between the tall dark trees, snow slowing gliding in the air and falling around my feet as I trudge through it. I thought I was alone out there...but oh no! I was wrong.

I saw someone in the distance on the other side of the lake. The person had a green hat on and an orange coat and...they...no, he looked very familiar to me and he looked as if he was goanna jump into the frozen lake, ultimately, causing him to die, so I walked slowly around the lake and I realized who it is...

_Kyle..._

Just as he jumps in I run towards the spot he was standing in only moments ago. I put my arms into the small hole on the frozen lake, the ice broken and cracked away. I pull out the jew, saving his life, shouting at him all the while of how fucking stupid he is.

The jew is asleep on my living room couch. He's clothes are still on (Except his sneakers), despite the wetness of them, soaking my couch in water. His face is flushed and he isn't snoring at all. He looks peaceful, almost dead.

I stand over him; I'm not sure what I should do to him...well, I wanna do a whole lot things to him, namely punch him in the face over and over again...

_It looks as if it wants to kill me, to kill me and kill me over and over again..._

And I wanna scream in his face and call him a stupid jew and I-

_"Scum" it says and "Changed into the devil"..._

And he's been laughing at me behind my back! He's life is so...perfect and he thinks he's so smart and so cool and-

F-f-fuck you, Kyle!

I grab hold of him with two strong hands, both holding his front. His head just dangles to the side.

"Why?" I say in a gritted teeth voice. "Why do you exist? Why do you cause me pain, huh Kyle? Why? Why do you think you're so damn fucking smart and cool? You're just a sneaky, slimy jew! That's all you are! You may have a loving mom and loving dad and great friends and a p-p-perfect life but...I..."

He doesn't even respond to me! He just lay's there unresponsive, his head dangling to the side all the while!

"Answer me!" I scream as I shake him wildly. "Fucking answer me, now! Why do you do this to me? What did I ever do to you, huh?"

I hear droplets of rain splash and crash against the house windows, hear Kyle's deep breathing, the roar of thunder outside and light, monetarily, fills the room caused by lightning.

Nothing.

No response.

"What did I do?" I say in a hoarse voice.

I'm sure if I imagined it or not, but I was sure I heard Kyle's voice whisper very softly:

"You saved me..."

I open my eyelids and look upon Kyle's form; he still asleep, still peaceful.

I blink and stay in the same position, standing over Kyle and keeping hold of his wet clothes, the wetness ending up on my hands; I don't care that my hands are wet.

Lightning lights up the living room again and I'm sure I see a smile on Kyle's peaceful face...

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**A/N:**

**There we go! Another chapter done and dusted! :)**

**Boy, was this hard to write, mentally, emotionally and physically...well, not really physically, but it did drain me out! **

**Yes, that is the awful truth about Cartman and why he acts the way he does! Being sexually abused by his mom's past boyfriends, he keeps hate towards any man she is interested in, is always suspicious and is always trying to persuade he's mom to dump the guys she hangs out with. Always staying inside as not for the same incident to happen again. He's jealousy towards Kyle, thinking he's life is perfect and that Kyle is smarter than he is, he holds up all this hate towards the jew. Yeah, some really deep emotional stuff and I didn't even know that Cartman's character was able to have so much complexity to him on a deeper level (That is until I started writing this chapter of course).**

**I planned it out for Cartman to had been sexually abused (I put a few hints in past chapters). It was so freaking sad to write this chapter, you have no idea; I really felt bad for him...such a traumatic thing to occur to a kid, even to Cartman, breaks my heart. :(**

**So yeah, this chapter was all about Cartman's emotional stress and how he feels about saving Kyle from commit suicide and he's complex feelings, accompanied with his hate towards David, his mom and Kyle, is all in twined in this one chapter. Hard stuff. **

**I really didn't expect it to come out like this, but I think it's a pretty good outcome. I didn't intend it to be a standalone Cartman chapter, but there you go...**

**Next chapter will be from Kyle's perspective and he will most likely wake up and find out who saved him. That should be all good drama, huh?**

**Reviews will be most appreciated and will keep me motivated and ensured that I am doing a good job. Thank you. :)**

**Oh, I got a new twitter if you're interested: #mpkio2**

**Until next time my lovely readers and reviewers!**


	12. You Want To Fix Me?

**Share this story via Facebook, Twitter, Bebo, E-mail, etc. **

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**New Twitter account:**** #mpkio2**

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**A/N:**

**Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews/favs/alerts this story has been receiving in the three month gap since the last update! As always, I appreciate all of the love and criticism that is shared. Also a big thank you to all those who sent me PM messages to get me writing again! :)**

**I am terribly sorry for the long wait you all had to endure with. Other things in life had cropped up and I found myself without any time to update. Also, I had to update my other fanfics, which pushed this update back, greatly so. I'm sorry you all had to wait so long for this. Forgive me? *Puppy dog eyes***

**OK, So I'm writing this chapter at like 3 in the morning and I'm low on energy and everything, but I just had the biggest urge to start writing something and I figured this story needed that long deprived chapter that it's been waiting for. **

**Here is the result of writing this chapter with hardly any energy but with bundles of determination and will!**

**Sorry about any grammar and spelling mistakes!**

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

**Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME STRONG SCENES OF A SEXUAL NATURE THAT MY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR TEENAGERS UNDER THE AGE OF THIRTEEN.**

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**"****Just let me fix you…"**

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**I'll Try To Fix You****  
****Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 12  
You Want To Fix Me?**

_Lightness…_

The first thing I sense as I awake into consciousness is my sense of touch. I feel as if my whole body is lightless, weightless, heavy, like a ton of bricks, like a feather, like I'm on clouds, all in one, all at the same time, all tied together in to an indescribable feeling that is hard to describe right now as I think and lie here on a….bed? No…it feels different to a bed…a couch…that's what I'm lying on. I soon realize that I'm shivering, that I'm cold all over, my clothes, my body, everything cold. But there is also this…warm sensation that is washing over my body, like the sun is keeping me warm or something. It feels nice, the warmth and it's battling with the coldness that has covered my body. I don't question it any further and leave it at that…

Next, my brain kicks in gear, as ir registers the very small fact that I had not noticed when I first realized I had surfaced consciousness…

I'm alive.

I'm breathing.

Blood still bumping around my body, all throughout my veins…

I'm well…well, maybe not…I don't know really for I am not fully awake yet; all I know is that I'm alive, cold, but alive…

But how am I alive again?

The last memory I can remember, the last thing I remember thinking was "I'm going to die here, here in this dark, cold, cold lake and no-one will be able to save me for I deserve to die,"

That's right; I was at the lake, at Stark's Pond, empty, dark, cold….alone. And….I jumped into the pond, the pond that had been frozen over because….I couldn't live the way I was living because I was hurt, hurt people, everyone, _still_ am hurt and I should just die cause everyone would be better off without me, right?

Away from the monster…no more torture, no more hurt, no more sadness….just peaceful death…alone, quick and painless.

I should be dead now….

….but I'm not….

I'm alive…but how?

Where did my plan go wrong?

Suicide shouldn't be like this, right? You should be dead when you kill yourself, shouldn't you? My blood shouldn't be pumping around my body, my heart shouldn't be beating and my lungs shouldn't be taking in breathe and then exhaling…

So….what the fuck is going on?

I wanted…no, _want_ to die, damnit!

Is this all God's doing? Does he want me to suffer even more than I already have? Does he enjoy watching me suffer in pain and just be overall miserable as I get hurt by the monster and hurt all those that are closet to me? Does he know that-!

And suddenly, quite out of nowhere, images, feelings, emotions start to return to me, memories that my brain urges with all its might to remember every detail, everything feeling, every sense working with it. I want to remember what happened to me, whyb I'm still alive. And slowly, the answer to my question is slowly unravelled as a image…no, more like a …_feeling_, a thought returns to me…

_I hold on to their shirt and breath, slowly._

I hear it loud and clear in my head, like I had just thought it again, but I didn't; it's only a memory of thought from…yesterday? Yes, it must be the next day now, right? Well, I don't really care about that right now, for the feelings, the sense, everything returns to me that was all accompanied with that thought…

I feel the softness of someone's clothes…a red jacket? A blue hat? Yeah…that's what they were wearing, I can just about see in my mind's eye. And I recall feeling…secure. Warm. Safe. Like nothing could hurt me…the monster…

I held on to someone. Someone…familiar. They saved me….whoever they are. And…I'm sure….I'm positive…that whoever saved me, whoever must of jumped into that lake and saved me from the cold depths that was my grave….they were the same person that caught me in the cafeteria, they day when I didn't feel well and almost collapsed to the floor and would have if….they weren't there for me.

To save me.

They've saved me twice now…

But why? What did I do to deserve such treatment?

Who and why would someone-?

The familiar smell of Cheesy Poofs and KFC chicken enters my nostrils in an inviting manner, causing my stomach to rumble in hunger and anticipation of what it desired that had to be nearby. My stomach and sense of smell hadn't lost its functiability…

But just as my stomach rumbles slightly, my blood freezes, but not from the coldness that is still warped around my body, no; this is from fear, shock and horror. Horror of the memory, images, senses that return to me, slowly and gradually, my heart now beating hard between my ribcage as the images, senses light up in my mind's eye like a light bulb…

_I smell the armour of Cheesy Poofs and KFC..._

No…

It couldn't have been-!

Not him!

Why would he-?

He hates me!

I hate him!

Why-?

OK, calm down, Kyle. Maybe you've got it all wrong; maybe it's someone else. Maybe someone else who like Cheesy Poofs and KKFC saved you. I mean, it's plausible, right? Lots of people like KFC and Cheesy Poofs so you have nothing to worry about…

As I slowly open my eyes, my reassurance to the identity who saved me, slowly falters as I am welcomed to a yellow ceiling. I look to my left and my eyes fall onto a yellow wall, a picture of three people (I can't see who's in the picture for the lighting in the room, I realize, is really poor…) hung up alone.

I slowly move my head to the right, feeling the coldness still all over my body, but also feeling that warm feeling as well, and I am look upon a familiar looking TV, sitting on a very familiar looking wooden table. ..

Shit no…

I can't be in…

…Cartman's house?

And even though the answer is right there in front of me, screaming in my face, I stubbornly doubt its existence, as if it was a mirage, a trick of my mind, a dream even…no, a nightmare that I really wanted to wake up from….though I know I can never wake up from this nightmare that is my life; I tried to end it, didn't I? I'm still in this nightmare…

But that would mean-?

No-?

Cartman s-s-saved me?

He couldn't have; he hates me! He's always wanted to kill me! So why would he ruin such a chance to get rid of me? Ugh, this doesn't make any fucking sense!

As I my eyes take in more of the room that I am currently in, the answer to the source of the warm sensation is found; a small radiator is stationed right beside me, probably on full blast, warming my body up. It feels nice, but the question still remains; why is it on in the first place?

My body shakes to answer and I inwardly kick myself for being so stupid; I'm supposed to be the smartest kid in my class and I asked _that_ question! I worry about my intelligence, greatly. Of course, Kyle! I'm so cold because I'm jumped into a below freezing lake! That's why I'm shaking all over and…now that I my sense of touch is returning and enhancing more, I realize a…wetness that is soaked all over my body…on my clothes, on my skin…

Well, that would make sense; I did jump into a lake after all and, naturally, I would get wet.

The smell of KFC lingers in the air and my stomach rumbles yet again. Slowly, giving into my need of food and hunger, I slowly turn over my body and turn into a sitting position on the…yes….the couch that I was previously lying on. As I do this action however, my head thumps loudly. I grab a hold my head, as a strong pain spreads throughout my upper body; I have ahead-ache.

I want to eat…but the pain is so bad, so strong that I just don't have the strength to get up and walk in the direction where that delicious aroma is coming from.

I sit still for a while, hoping the pain would disappear on its own; it decreases but in no way disappears.

I can always shout out for help….but I don't want Cartman to see me like this? Not wanting his help! He would laugh at me and would taunt me for the rest of my life! I can't…no, _won't_ ask for his help! I'll just stand up on my own!

And I do, very wobbly and weakly I should add, but I accomplish the action, none the less. As I stand to my full height, I feel the pain return in full force, the room going dizzy at the same time. I fumble on the spot, swaying to my right and, just as I felt like I was about to fall, hold onto the said of a wall to keep me up right and balanced. I sneeze, temporarily losing my balance in the process, and grab back hold onto the wall.

Fuck.

I have a cold.

That would explain the dizziness and headache.

But still…

My stomach rumbles.

I'm hungry.

The, what appears to be, kitchen is right in front of me, only a few feet away. Through the bad lighting, I can just about see the outline of the sink, the counter top where a few plates and cups are stacked, the window in front, rain droplets falling down along the glass.

With as much strength as I can muster as much pain as I can endure, I walk forward, the room spinning, my head banging, my stomach rumbling, towards my destination. I, surprisingly, make it all in one piece.

The kitchen is in complete darkness, as if no-one was home. Come to think of it, the living room, from where I just walked from, had the lights on, but very dimly. Isn't anyone home or something? Maybe I should call out, just to see if anyone is in…

My stomach rumbles.

Then again, maybe I should eat first…

To my right, the kitchen table is laid bare except for a red and white KFC bucket in which the delicious smell of chicken is coming from. I follow my nose and stomach and reach the table, lightning temporarily lighting up the room. I look within the bucket, the smell hitting me full in my face, my mouth watering from what I within the KFC bucket; chicken that has all the skin peeled off, eaten I assume by that asshole.

No doubt about it.

This _is_ Cartman's house.

Figuring "beggars can't be choosers", I sit myself down, slowly, my head swaying a bit from side to side from the shift in balance, on a chair behind the kitchen table, pulling the KFC bucket towards myself and, literally, eating down the still-warm-skin-eaten chicken. I savour the taste, the feel of the warm meat as I chew it with my teeth.

Man, I'm so fucking hungry! Thank God I didn't have to ask Cartman for food; I'm so hungry I _might_ just had to if food wasn't offered on the table for me. Good thing it- wait…is this food even for me? Maybe it's for his mother and not me? But I'm so hungry; I need to eat.

I had only realized I had stopped eating, the chicken in my hand lowering, my teeth no longer chewing the meat in my mouth, guilt halting my actions. Promising myself that I would repay Cartman's mom the food I am eating with money (That I am sure I have in my backpack somewhere…), I continue eating, enjoying the taste and all…

"And just what the fuck do you think you're doing, Jew?" I hear that familiar angry voice say from behind me. I jump, not expecting anyone to barge in like that and starlt me.

I turn my head slowly; my eye's just able to make out the outline of the asshole that is Eric Cartman. A distasteful expression covers my face…

"Eating," I answer, simply, my heading turning back round to do just that.

"Don't get fucking smart with me, Kahl!" Cartman yells angrily, light filling the room, everything now seen perfectly with my eyes; he must of turned on the light switch…..why didn't I think of that? "Why are you eating MY KFC? No-one said you could eat MY food, did they?"

I stop eating and turn to face him, his arms crossed as if he was a parent scolding a child for misbehaving or something. My blood boils just thinking about how much he must be loving this; seeing me weak and telling me off….bastard…

"I thought it was for me," I reply in a simple voice. "It was an honest mistake," I stand; why? I really don't know….because I don't want to think he is dominating me, standing over me….the monster over me, dominating like usual, I'm crying on the floor….no, concentrate now, Kyle!

"Honest mistake", my ass," Cartman spits out. "You took my food knowing it was mine just to spite me, spite me like you always do…"

This, genuinely, confuses me; spite him? I do not spite him! How did he come to that conclusion? And, is that sadness I hear in his voice….no I must be mistaken, my sense of hearing mustn't be back to normal fully yet…

"I do not always "spite you", fat ass!" I hear the rain, loud and clear, fall down from the heavens outside, hitting the glass on the window, sliding down it like tears. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Cartman looks as though he's about to retaliate but then, suddenly, he chooses not to. Instead, he picks up the KFC bucket from the table and carries it over to the kitchen counter over by the window.

"Nothing," I him hear say, almost in a whisper, his voice dark. "Whatever. Just….whatever…"

"No," I say in return, actually surprised and taken aback by Cartman's dark tone of voice and reply. No comeback? No Jew jokes? What the fuck? "What did you mean by "spite you"?"

I see Cartman sigh, deeply, his head down, his hand's resting on the counter, leaning over the counter. Time passes a bit and then, out of nowhere, he turns walks towards me, a glare on his face that looks nothing but nasty, both of his hands grab hold of my wet orange coat and push me towards the wall behind me, the back of my head colliding with my head, the room spinning more, pain spreading everywhere, a fist of air leaving my lungs…

"I didn't mean anything by it you stupid Jew-rat!" he screams angrily in my face, my eyes going a little unfocussed, my brain trying to stay conscious, holding onto his words the best I can do… "Nothing at all, alright? Just get the hell outta my house!"

And then he lets go, and fall to the floor, my eyes closing shut suddenly. I couldn't hold onto his words, no matter how I hard I tried to…

* * *

The next thing I know, I'm waking up, yet again, slowly but surely. I open my eyes and I met with the same thing I saw when I woke up the first time on Cartman's couch; the ceiling. Although the place is the same as before, there is one big difference this time, however; there is a person sitting beside me, a person I didn't expect I would see sitting so close to me…

Cartman's back was to me, his back hunched over his legs, his arms resting on his knees….well that's how it appears to me. What I really wanted to know what he was doing sitting next to me…he wasn't…no…he isn't worried about me…is he?

He can't be…

Not him…

As I gain more consciousness, I realize that something heavy is resting on my head…something…cold….really cold. But I don't care if it's cold because it feels soothing, nice and relaxing. I feel warmer as well, which is strange because I'm sure last I checked my clothes were freezing cold… I feel comfortable as well, all cosy, my head resting on…pillows, soft pillows.

The atmosphere and temperature in the room is different too. Instead of being dark, cold…scary…lonely….I feel content and warm, the room lit in a low warm orange glow, which is probably due to the fireplace by Cartman's TV **(1)** which is alive and well, the flames dancing here and there letting out a warm relaxed feeling around the room. Well, that is all see and feel when I look to my right.

But the change of temperature and tone in the room is not what concerns me; how this all happened and what _actually_ happened is what I want to know…

I groan slightly, both in grogginess and as an attempt to catch Cartman's attention. The asshole turns to look at me and, upon seeing me yes are half shut and open, he smirks and stand up, to look down at me, yet again, with his arms crossed.

"So, you decided to wake up, huh, Jew?" He says in a taunting voice. "You sure gotta stop waking up in my house Kahl…the neighbours would start to think that I'm gay….like you are," He snickers, and I slightly growl.

"What the hell happened?" I ask in a dry voice as I lift my head up from the comfortable pillows, my head killing me, the room swaying a bit, the heavy object that was previously my head, falls to the floor. I look down at it and I discover that it's an ice pack.

"Why was there an ice pack on my head, asshole?" I ask in an accusing voice, glaring up at him, thinking he did something _funny_ to it to humiliate me or something. "Are you trying to trick me or something?"

"What?" Cartman asks in a fake affronted and hurt voice. "I can't believe you would say such a thing, Kahl," His smirk grows wider if that was even possible. "Why would I do something like that?"

"Cuase you're an asshole, that's why!" I shout back, my head throbbing through the force behind my yelling. "Now tell me what the f- woah!"

Before I can finish my sentence, I find myself falling back down onto the couch, my head hitting the pillows. I'm sure my balance wasn't that bad? But as I look up, I find that it wasn't my bad footing that caused me to fall, but rather a fat-ass pushed me back.

"Kahl, you need to be more careful with yourself," He says in a fake concerned hushed voice, putting a blanket over my body as he talked. "You're not a good condition…"

I protest his "comforting" actions, pushing my hands up and pushing him away from my body, but being the fat-ass he is, he's obviously a lot bigger than me and, therefore, has more strength behind his actions, and so pushes me back down easily, my actions futile, myself unable to do anything but shout at him.

"No Cartman! Stop! I don't need bed rest! Get off of me fat ass! I don't need you to-"

And suddenly, I stop; stop talking, stop moving my body in protest, everything. I just stop. I lose my breathe, my heart skipping a beat. Cartman is over me, his face dangerously close to mine; I can practically smell his KFC- Cheesy Poof breathe – I stop myself from gagging. He's eyes are strong, angry, the reflection of fire dancing in his eyes. My hands are tied over my head by his strong hands, keeping me in place.

I'm helpless, I can't escape…he has me just where he wants me – like the monster…

I ready myself to receive a beating or something disgusting from him…

I'm ready monster, for anything…

"You're not well, Kahl," He whispers, gently, so unlike him. I think there's something not so right going on, like he is up to something. But then, I look into his eyes and I see it; behind all that anger, it's there. Seriousness…

Cartman…

Why….

What?...

"You're not feeling well, Jew…" He continues in…that voice…and it sounds nothing like him and…it sounds all weird. Stan, my Super Best Friend, should be here saying this stuff, not…h-him. "You have a temperature at 99c and is still rising…"

But how does he know this? How does he know all this? How…why…the seriousness is staring at me, the fire dancing in his eyes….my heart skips another beat…fuck…maybe I am sick; I do feel very warm, actually.

But how does-?

He laughs. But not darkly, like he's up to something, like he's laughing at me…he's laughing _with_ me. What?

"Jumping into a lake below freezing would do that to you, stupid Jew…"

I can't say anything, but I want to, want to say so many things to him, ask so many things to him; How do you know? You saved me? Why? Cartman, damit! Why…did you….save me? Why-? And over and over they go in my head. But I don't have time to ask them anyway cause their going through my head so fast and I'm listening to him and I can't believe half of what he says or understand half of it, my brain not working as fast, not keeping up- keep up!

But can't say it all, ask it all, even if I wanted to for I am in shock. I can feel my lips trembling slightly, my eyes widening at everything he says, my temperature rises…_still rising_… my heart skips a beat, again…

"You blanked out when I knocked you against the wall; such a delicate little shit you are," He continues to say. "I put you back on my couch. Even I can tell you're not sell; boiling up and everything. I put blanket over you, an ice pack to your head and kept the room warm. You're not well, understand, Kahl?" He shouts the last part and all I can do is nod my head.

"Good," He replies. "Stay there and don't you dare move, otherwise…." And he moves his mouth towards my right ear. "…I'll kill you and you know I will," He lifts his head and I nod again.

Cartman finally let's go of my hands tied around my head, knowing and ensured that I will not go anywhere. I feel pity for myself for not able to fight back towards this fat ass and feel a little violated but, at the same time, comforted. I let my hands fall as I lie there, my head still on the pillow, not moving g at all.

Cartman turns to leave, his footsteps echoing around the room. But then I hear nothing but the crackling of the fire that burns brightly by the TV.

"Just sleep, Jew," I hear him whisper, no emotion in his voice, as my eyes fall shut, feeling myself loose consciousness yet again. "Just let me fix you…"

And for once, I do as Cartman commands.

I rest.

* * *

_I hear someone crying…_

_They sound familiar but I can't put my finger on who it is._

_But why are they crying?_

_What's happened?_

"_Kyle…" I hear. "Kyle, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, you dumb Jew! Fucking forgive me…please…"_

_And I feel warm strong rams around me, feel tears fall and stain onto my clothes, my body fragile and weak and….yes, covered in, what feels like, blood._

"_Kyle…I'm sorry!"_

_I want to scream back, wake up and shout back "I love you12, that I do forgive them for everything, but I can't move my body. I can't do anything at all. The only thing I can do is lay here, lay here and feel there warm arms around them, hear them cry out in anguish, not able to comfort them at all…_

"_I tried to fix you…"_

_I am broken goods that can never be fixed. I tried to tell them but they wouldn't listen to me. And this is proof of it; I can never be fixed, never._

_But I am just as guilty for I did the same to them; try to fix them. They told me I should stop, to leave them alone…but I never gave up. And I failed._

_As the familiar voice cries onto my body, I try…I try to whisper those same useless, pathetic words…_

"I tried to fix you…"

_But nothing comes out at all, and they are left crying, hold my dead body in their warm, strong hands…_

"I'm sorry. I tried to fix you…"

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**A/N:**

**(1) I know Cartman doesn't have a fireplace in his living room (Or anywhere else in his house for that matter…), for there is no chimney in the long shots of Cartman's house. But, I am altering this little fact and saying he **_**does**_** have one just for the purpose of this story…**

**Another chapter done and dusted! :)**

**I think this chapter moves the story along nicely. Kyle wakes up in Cartman's house and is ill as fuck, but he doesn't realize this for he is in shock at where he is and his hunger, eats Cartman's KFC and then is pushed against the wall by Cartman? Why did Cartman push Kyle? Well, Cartman is hiding his feelings towards Kyle of course; he doesn't want to reveal how angry Kyle makes him, for Cartman sees it as a weakness that Kyle can attack.**

**I like the last part of the chapter a lot; the use of building a warm atmosphere (via the fireplace) creating the overall tone of the mood of the chapter 9Also, the rain had stopped at this point). Cartman reveals a little of how he feels towards Kyle, helping Kyle being mended back to health and all that Kyle feels is shock…and the skipping of his heart. LOL**

**And of course, I had to have Cartman refer to the title of this fanfic by saying "Just let me fix you…" Actually, through writing this chapter (And that part), I got a better feel of where this story is headed to and how we're gonna get there – it might be a bit longer than what I was expecting but whatever! More Kyman epicness for you. :)**

**Also, I listened to "Fix You" by Coldplay when writing this chapter, which might have had an influence of what I wrote…**

**Next chapter, Cartman wakes up the next morning and Kyle has a lot of questions for him to answer. More drama coming up! **

**Reviews will be appreciated as always and will be used as motivational and confidence boosters so please send them in by clicking on that green button below! Thanks! :)**

**Until next time everyone! :)**


	13. I Don't Want To Be Vulnerable!

**A/N:**

**Long-time no see everyone!**

**Yeah, I'm very sorry about the extremely long wait you have all had to endure; I went on a little disappearance act for God knows how many months (Yes I am still alive! Lol), but I'm back and better than ever…well, I hope so.**

**Life in general and focussing on other fanfics delayed the release of this chapter, immensely so.**

**Please forgive me *Puppy dog eyes***

**Anyway, hope you had a wonderful Christmas and had a great transition into the new year by celebrating however you seemed preferable.**

**Anyway, onto what you've all been waiting for…the new chapter! **

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

**Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

* * *

"**Well I've had enough of feeling vulnerable!"**

* * *

**I'll Try To Fix You****  
****Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 12  
I Don't Want To Be Vulnerable**

Fuck…

My head hurts like hell!...

What the fuck?

Why?

The answer to that question is held loosely within my right hand; it feels like a bottle and kinda looks like one but….fucking hell….my eyes are all blurring so I can't be sure of what it is. It sure as hells looks like a bottle, what with its green transparent colour and bottle-like shape. Yeah, it's a bottle. End of.

As I slowly stand up from my lying position on the…where the fuck am I, anyway? What the hell happened last night? And….why is vision all blurry? What the fuck is going on!

I can't remember a single thing that happened last night…

I try to remember, focussing my brain on that one single function, but a pain spreads through my head and I give up. And I slowly look down to the bottle in my hand, my vision is hazy, and suddenly, it all makes sense…

I got drunk.

I drank a shitload of alcohol and got myself completely and utterly wasted.

Fuck….what happened this time?

It must have been something horrible, just like every time I get drunk, just like every time something fucking terrible happens to me.

Every fucking time, no matter how small it is, I get myself hammered.

But I have to, don't I? How else am I supposed to get the horrible images out of my head? How else am I supposed to get the nasty and truth-ridden words out of my skull that ring and repeat itself as the event unfolds? How else am I supposed to forget…? How else am I supposed to be…hayypy….to forget that it ever happened in the first place? Huh? Well, tell me bitch! Tell me how I'm supposed to forget?

How do I get the images of that sick bastard holding onto me, touching me in all sort of inappropriate and private places. How am I supposed to get the image of my mother, my whore of a mother, who just stands there and looks lost between me and the monster? How else that do I get that deep, sinister voice out of my head, ringing and ringing and ringing and-

_STOP!_

The bottle, which was previously hanging loosely in my hand, hits the floor with a "Thud". I find myself not caring if it did smash into pieces, not caring if it did make a huge sound. I find myself disappointed that none of that occurred.

Slowly looking around, I realize I'm in my room, a strong hit of relief hitting my stomach and washing all over me. Everything was in its exact place. The sun was shining through my only window, lighting up the room in its brilliant glow. I feel something by feet, so finding myself curious as to what it is, my eyes lay on yet another bottle. It is then that I notice a whole bunch of bottles around me, the smell of strong alcohol lingering around me and entering my nostrils, all scattered around the room as if it was a junkyard.

As I take a tentative step forward, my head starts to sway, the after effects of the alcohol kicking in; fuck this hang-over was killing me. Knowing that I need some paracetomol and fucking fast, I exit my bedroom, a sharp pain spreading through my head with each step I take. After what seems like forever, I reach the bathroom, slamming the door behind me as I enter. I reach the cabinet and open it.

_Fuck._

_All of the pain-killers are gone._

_But, who would-?_

_Of course…_

_Me._

Fuck, why didn't I buy some more yesterday when I went out to buy some KFC? I knew I needed some more, so why didn't I go into the chemist when I passed Stark's Pond? I always buy-

I reach out and grab hold of a person, a person who is drenched in freezing cold water, who wears a orange coat and green hat, whose eyes are closed….who looks….dead…

A person a boy who goes by the name of Kyle Broflovski, the jewrat who I hate so fucking much!

I saved him from killing himself, almost downing himself in Stark's Pond. That's why I forgot to pick up pain-killers; I was saving my enemy from death.

And then I brought him back to my place and he had the nerve to eat _my_ KFC chicken! That jewrat has no manners whatsoever, going and eating other people's chicken when they had no right to do so! Was that a way to thank someone for saving their worthless, pathetic life? By eating their chicken? Who in the hell does he think-!

_The jew!_

_I saved him!_

_So that would mean that…_

_Fuck….his in my house!_

_But….does that mean his the reason why I'm so hangover right now? Did he cause me to feel so terrible? Is he the reason why my head is pulsing with pain? Shit….now more than ever, I wish I knew what occurred the previous night of hard-drinking…_

I try to remember, but nothing comes at all.

Fuck this.

Where is that jew anyway?

He isn't in my bedroom, that I know of for sure. Where did I leave him?

The jew's location was top priority in my head, though getting rid of this painful hangover came at a tough second. So, now that I know I had no pain-killers in the house whatsoever, I decide that the only alternative to get rid of this pulsing pain was the old fashioned-way;

A strong coffee mixed with cough medicine. Needless to say, this method is highly disregarded by many and has the strangest of after-effects, but I don't give a shit; I do what I want, bitch!

My hand lifts up and takes a hold of the only cough-medicine bottle in the house, my balance and vision improving ever so slightly. I turn and slowly exit the bathroom, the stairs being my next destination. When I reach them, I hold on to the banister for support and slowly descend the stairs, watching every step I make.

The living room is dark, the curtains and blinds still closed shut, not allowing any light to enter the room, dark shadows and figures created in the darkness. Was it my poor vison they created the dark figure sleeping on my couch? Concluding that the answer was "Yes", I pass through the living room and enter the kitchen.

The smell of alcohol hits me head first, accompanied by the sight of many finished of bottles scattered about, my nostrils scrunching up in displeasure and disgust of both sight and smell.

Did I drink all this?

But my brain, again, draws a blank.

Hoping the answer's "No,", I turn towards the coffee machine and turn it on with the switch of button, the nutrition liquid bubbling and brewing away. While I wait, I sit myself at the table in a slump, slightly leaning forward, I put my elbows on the table, allowing my arms hands to reach up, my head resting in both hands.

I think.

Usually when I drink, I always believe I have a reason, that reason being I would rather drink myself into oblivion rather than allow the horrible memories linger in my mind, normally not questioning my reasoning behind my actions.

But this time, it's different.

Why is it different you ask?

Because Kahl Broflovski is in my house, that's why!

Every time Kahl is around, something bad always happens to me. So the jew being in my house would be even worse than him being around me out in public.

_God I hate him._

_I know he did something last night!_

_I know it was him who made me drink so much!_

_I know that his the reason why I'm in this weak state!_

_I know-_

The image of Kyle's face, shocked and flustered, flashes before my inner eye, accompanied by the faint sound of light rain hitting against my living room window.

I shake my head.

_What the fuck was that?_

But before I can answer my crudely constructed question, a loud whirling noise gets my attention at once, startling me for a second, my head turning towards the direction of the sound. The coffee is brewed.

I slowly stand up and walk towards the coffee machine. Once in front, I place a mug underneath the dispenser and press the "Start" button which allows freshly brewed coffee to fall into my mug ready for me to drink. I take the mug into my hand, put it to my mouth and sip the coffee, gently.

My hangover doesn't feel any better, but I know that it will soon be gone, vanished from my body as if it never existed in the first place.

As I take another sip from my mug, I become aware that someone else is in the room with me, their faint breathing and slight movement being detected by my sensitive hearing.

Wondering who the hell it is, I turn around quickly to face the newcomer. However, I soon discover that the speed of my action was a mistake, for a tumble slightly, the unbalance feeling still circling my body.

"A-are you alright?" A familiar, hesitant, almost confused and….worried?...voice asks me. Thankfully, I quickly grab a hold of the counter to balance my footing, for I'm sure I would have fallen on to the hard-tiled kitchen floor, but not from my unbalanced body caused by the raging hangover I am experience, but more from the shock that hits my body full on, the shock being of recognizing the newcomer's voice.

"I'm f-fine, Jew," I spit back in answer, my usual confidence radiating of my voice. I hope he didn't hear the slight hesitance in my voice though…

A frown slowly creeps over his face. "You….don't sound it," he replies, unconvinced by my answer. Fucking jew! Always has to question everything I say! Always has to make me look bad! Always makes my life shit! He does in on purpose, I swear!

Not only that, but I know for a fact that he is the reason I am in this stae in the first place.!

"Well I am," I say back in a strong nasty voice, a frown plastered on my face, my eyebrows knotting in anger. He's doing this on purpose, I swear he is! Fucking jew making me mad!

"Now why don't you fuck off, jew," I slowly turn my body around, my hand on the counter the whole time, and face the kitchen window. I open up the blind, light filling into the room immediately. My eyes squint a little in protest at the sudden light.

"Your obviously not "fine", fatass," the unexpected mutter escapes the jew's mouth. I stop myself looking out at my puddle filled back-yard and slowly turn my head to look back at Kyle, whose head is dropped to the floor, his facial expression unreadable, an expression of pure shock and surprise, most definitely, written across my face.

_Did he just-?_

_Where the fuck did-?_

_This fucking jew-!_

Silence lingers in the room for a few moments, the jew obviously having nothing to say (or embarrassed from what he said…) and I myself, still processing what he had spoken, my brain slowly trying to digest this piece of information, thought my brain argued that it was invalid and not right at all.

Once I compose myself, I respond. "D-did you hit yourself on the head or something, jew?" I ask. He doesn't reply and I'm not surprised. "You sounded…as if…"

But I shut my mouth shut at once, my brain finally putting the pieces together in my head. He's tricking me, just like he always does. He's tricking me, playing with my emotions, making me believe that he actually is….concerned…about….me….

_It's a trick!_

This is Kyle, the jew we're talking about here!

The one person who hates me with a passion.

The one person who wishes I was dead and would stay dead.

The one person who….

….is standing in front of me and looking down, as if…

….No.

Fucking no!

It's a trick, Eric!

Don't be led by the jew's lies and believable his acting! Just like Judas himself, the most deceitful Jew of all, Kyle here has inherited his ways and is doing nothing but lie to me!

"C-Cartman?" I hear the jew ask, snapping me out of inner thought and back to reality, said jew looking at me with a questionable stare. "Are you-?"

"Leave," I mutter in a dark voice.

"What?" He asks, his voice…weak? What the fuck is wrong with him today? He would never act so weak in front of me! He would usually come back with a "Screw you, fatass!" or "You're not the boss of me!" like he usually would. So why is he acting this way? What would he possibly-?

It's all an act; he's just tricking you, just wants to make fun of you and tell everyone how you fell for such an obvious trick, planned by the evil Kyle Broflovski. Don't let his pathetic, weak and feeble body fool you! Don't let his pathetic, curious eyes play you? Don't allow his dirty grimy appearance, a cloth hanging around his shoulders, make you out for an idiot!

But before I can utter another word, a loud voice echoes, another newcomer entering the kitchen area. At the sight of the person, my stomach plummets.

"Morning, all!" It's David, my mom's boyfriend. He enters the kitchen area in a drunken state, as if he never slept through the night at all. "Hey, kiddo," He walks right past Kyle and slumps a hand on my head, ruffling my hair in a "affectionate" way. I do not appreciate the gesture of "love".

"Don't touch me," I mutter dangerously, my voice still dark, a displeasant and serious frown on my face. Instead of taking me seriously, David merely smiles at me, treating my words as if they were nothing but a empty threat, like a kid was telling a grown-up to not embarrass them but the parent does it anyway. If anything, David looked pleased by my actions.

"Aww, d-don't say that, kiddo," His slurry voice drags out, the alcohol, obviously having an affect over his voice. He looks away from me for a second, his left eye noticing two bottles of beer on the kitchen counter. He grabs both beers, returns in front of me, and slowly leans down in front of me. "Not after last night," He giggled, childishly, despite it being an unchildishy situation.

My eyes widen both in shock, humiliation and anger.

_Was that why I drunk so much last night?_

_Was it because David-?_

And suddenly the world starts to spin. I tighten my hold onto the kitchen counter. I hear David laughing, echoing in my head.

_No…._

_Not again…._

_Anything but…_

The monster is on top of me, huffing and puffing away, darkness all around me and I want nothing but to shrink away and hide…

_Fuck…This…_

The smell of sex and sweat lingers in the air and I want nothing more but to gag. I almost do, but a claw is wrapped around my mouth, not allowing me to throw up in disgust.

…_Asshole!_

Before I can whack him in the face in anger, he is nowhere to be seen. Hearing footsteps climb the stairs, I conclude he has gone up stairs to fuck my mom no doubt.

I clench my fists in anger. It was that asshole, again! Of course it was. The fucking third time…and every time, every morning after I wake with a hangover, he reminds me of what happened last night…reminds me that he is in control and there is nothing that I can do, not that he had my mother exactly where he wants her.

The worst part of it all was this time, we had a little audience. Kyle stands in front of me, a confused expression on his face.

_Fuck!_

_Did hear? _

_Does he understand what David said?_

_Has he figured out what's going on?_

_Can this day get any worse…and it only being seven thirty?_

"W-who…" Kyle feebly starts, clearing the tense silence that previously filled the space between us. "…was that?"

Figuring by that question that Kyle hasn't discovered anything that I wish for him to never find, I answer the truth. "My mom's boyfriend," My voice low, but no-where near as it was dark.

You would think something as distraughting and traumatizing would have a greater affect over me, wouldn't ya? I guess I'm starting to get used to it…

"Oh…Is he…always like that?" I still haven't a clue if Kyle knows of what is going on, but humour him and play his little "Lets-trick-Cartman" game.

"You mean, drunk off his ass? Yeah, why you ask, jew?" I add with a little suspicion and mistrust.

"No reason, fattass," He answers, settling to look over at the messed up kitchen table rather at my serious face. "Just…looking for conversation,"

I scoff, not believing a word he says. "Conversation, my ass. You never had an interest in my life, so why start now?"

"It's just some harmless chit-chat, Cartman," he replies a little defensively, a small frown on his lips. "You don't have to get all worked up about it,"

"Worked up about it?" I repeat, my eyes squinting on the jew in front of me. "I'm not worked up about anything. I'm just suspicious of you, jew,"

"What?" Kyle says back, confusion in his voice.

"You're up to something, like always," I say back, anger building behind my words. "You're trying to trick me, aren't you? Playing the weak and feeble act…"

My door slammed open, the sileohete of monster cast by the hall light…

"… to make me vulnerable…"

Drunken growls whisper into my ear, a huge body weight is on top of me and I feel it….I feel something that I would never admit to anyone…I feel vulnerable…

"….and then you're gonna pounce…"

And the huge body lunges on top of me. I hold back a scream. Fuck.

"Well I've had enough of feeling vulnerable!" I scream and Kyle jumps, startled by my sudden reaction. "I've had enough of games and deceit from you," And I point directly at him. "I've had enough of all the tricks and the abuse and molesta-"

I stop mid-sentence, not daring, not wanting to finish that sentence, not wanting to mutter it out at all.

Fuck.

It slipped out…

In my anger towards Kyle….no, towards that asshole, David…I…almost revealed…

The jew doesn't know, does he?

But I don't look at his face to get some kind of recognition. I don't want to look at his face. I don't want to look at him at all. I've had enough.

"C-Cartman?" I hear him, his voice filled with confusion. "A-are you alright?"

Fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck!

There's that question again, that question I wish he would stop asking me…cause I know he doesn't care at all. I know he's…tricking me…and…he's the only one that has ever asked…me…that…and I…he…fuck this!

"Never better," But my voice doesn't sound as if I mean it at all.

"But, I don't….I….just wanted to say…"

Silence.

And then…

"I think it's about time you leave my house, jew,"

"What?"

"Leave," I once again turn my body and look out of the window, my back now to him. "You're in muh house, jew, and I'm commanding you to leave…"

"But-"

"Are you fucking death!" I scream at him, my voice filled with anger and…..no, it wasn't there…I didn't detect it….but I know I heard it and so does the jew for his eyes widen slightly. "I said leave!"

Another silence fills the air between us, tension stronger than the last lingered in the air. I hope you hadn't it….hope the jew hadn't seen it stream down my cheek…god damn he better of not seen it, and even though it was small, even though it was only _one…_it was still there and said it more than words could ever describe.

"You know what?" I hear the jew speak, his voice strong with hate, the voice he usual conversed with me….the Kahl I truly knew and- "Forget it. Forget I ever came over to your house. Forget that I….that for one second, I actually…. Just forget it, fattass!"

_What the fuck?_

_What…what was he going to say? Why did his voice quiver a bit? Why was he so hesitant? Why did he-?_

"I…I…" His voice is quiet, small…timid even…a side I never saw f the jew; he never showed me his soft side, never his vulnerable side…

_Vulnerable side…?_

_His…showing it to me?_

_But I told him I had enough!_

_I told him I didn't want to be vulnerable anymore!_

_And yet…_

_He shows me _his_…!_

_Why?_

I try a glance over my shoulder to look at him, to detect how his feeling by looking at his body language, by looking at the expression on his face, but I disappointed to discover that he, like me, now has his back towards mines, his head down facing the flaoor, deflated.

"I….thought you were gonna fix me…"

My eyes widen. He remembers what I said lat night, even though he was sort of dazed out. I thought he wouldn't remember the previous night conversation we both shared, but alas he does. I said I would make him feel better…to fix him….

But I can't do that now…

Things have changed, and only in small amount of time…

I him scoff. "But what can I except from the Great Eric Cartman? Nothing but disappointment of course,"

I find my surprised, feeling a twang of pain hit my heart as the words slip through his lips.

"I really thought….but I was an idiot, wasn't I?" The jew questions, and it appears to me that he is more asking himself the question than me. "Why did I make myself believe that? Of course it would never happen….of course…."

Not knowing exactly what he was spewing out to me (and to himself), I let my presence be known to him;

"Get out, jew,"

He coughed heavily in reply, from the sickness that coursed through his body or for some other known reason, I didn't know. He still looked sick, so maybe it was due to the sickness….I wish it's because of the latter.

"I just wanted to say…" His voice is small and quiet again, his voice a little heavy from a sore throat. "Thank you,"

_I stiffen at once, my heart missing a few beats, my eyes widen._

_Did he just..?_

_He _thanked_ me?_

_Kyle, the jew, my worst enemy, thanked…?_

_No way!_

"Thank you for looking after me in my time of need,"

But before I could turn and reply, before I could ask him "What the fuck is wrong with you, jew?", before my brain could register what was going on, the jew was already trotting away out of bright kitchen and into the shadows that loomed within the living room, his form barely visible in the unlit room.

I just stand there, staring at his retreating form, my mouth agape, alone in the kitchen.

_What else was there for me to do?_

_Shout out to him?_

_No._

_Because he was doing one thing I didn't want to be…_

_Vulnerable._

And so, I just let him walk away.

I turn to the unopened bottles of beer that are on the kitchen counter, one already taken by that bastard, David, a few minutes ago. I walk towards them and pick them up.

I open the first bottle and drink it down in one, hoping if I continue drink through all the bottles…

…I will forget this mornings events altogether.

_Why did you do that?_

_Why did you…_

_Thank me?_

_Why?_

_Why…._

_Kyle….?_

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**A/N:**

**I hope you enjoyed reading the chapter! :)**

**This chapter wasn't easy to write, which is another reason this chapter is severely delayed in posting. I didn't know where to take it, how to get Cartman's thoughts rolling out, but once I found Cartman's voice, it became easier.**

**OK, I know I said that Kyle would ask Cartman questions (About Cartman saving him and everything), but I decided, for dramatical and story structure purposes, it would be better to reframe from asking questions. Question can be answered as the story continues to progress.**

**Actually, I had it planned that Kyle would ask Cartman question in the kitchen scene, but Cartman's anti-Idon;t-want-to-answer-any-questions barrier, disallowed Kyle from asking anything. In short, Cartman didn't want the story to go that way lol.**

**Poor Cartman; why do I put him through hell so much? That David is nothing but scum! (If you couldn't work it out, David entered Cartman's bedroom at night and…well, you know…). The kitchen scene was to slowly introduce the complexities around Cartman's life to Kyle; slowly, that's where I want to take it.**

**Kyle thanking Cartman is a sign that Kyle is becoming aware of Cartman's soft side, that maybe he does care about him. But Cartman being Cartman goes and ruins that, doesn't he? A very nice scene…things are moving along nicely…**

**Next chapter….hmm…..I think Kyle will return to school, but how will he and Cartman ever face each other? Will questions finally be asked?**

**Reviews would be appreciated as always (Criticism welcomed).**

**Until next to time everyone! :)**


	14. All Because Of Him

**A/N:**

**I have returned! :)**

**Thank you so much for all of the awesome reviews and to anyway who has faved/alerted this fanfic story. I am greatly appreciated for all of your support.**

**Yes people, I'm back from a very long hiatus. Sorry I had neglected this fanfic so much; I was focusing on my other fanfics and life in general got a little out of hand. I hope it doesn't happen again (Don't hold me to my word. :p )**

**You forgive me, don't you? *Uses same old Puppy dog eyes***

**Anyway, enough from me and my ramblings; let's get on to the next chapter. **

**Enjoy! :)**

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**Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

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"**The world is spinning and spinning and I want it to end…but then you stop it for me and I don't want this moment to never end,"**

* * *

**I'll Try To Fix You  
Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 14  
All Because Of Him**

As I slowly enter the dark living room, the curtains closed around the windows allowing no light into the room, my head starts to thump madly. I place my right hand to the source of the pain on my head and sooth it gently, hoping for the pain to disaperate on its own. I knew this would accomplish nothing for, if it were possible, the pain intensified. The world was already spinning enough without my head hurting, but now it seemed to spin even faster, as if the Earth itself had somehow lost its ability to spin correctly on its axis.

Feeling as though my head would explode at any moment from the pain, I throw myself onto the nearest thing possible. Fortunately for me, the couch is soft and comfortable, my head slowly falling into the softness of the material. My body begins to relax somewhat, feeling my muscles slowly become loose, the pain in my head somewhat subsiding, the world slowly down around me, no longer spinning out of control…

But I'm wrong, ain't I?

The world is spinning out of control…and has been for quite some time for me.

When will it ever slow down, just for a minute, just for a second, so I can look around me and think "Hey, it's not too bad…living…it's OK,"

But I've already reserved myself into thinking otherwise; for I will never think that, never believe something like that will happen to me. I've already committed myself, accepted the fact that life…it just doesn't want to be nice to me at all. It just wants me to live through hell, every single day I live.

It doesn't want me to be happy…

And I'm OK with that, because…I already accepted the fact that people will be better off without me., that nobody needs me in their life, that everyone will be happier if I was dead and stayed dead.

It was the reason I was going to kill myself; people not needing me, thinking it was for the best, just wanting the pain to stop, just wanting the Earth to stop spinning out of control, spinning and spinning and just wanting it to end, to plunge myself deep into the icy depths of Stark's Pond, my coffin to reside in. To be at peace at last.

But that didn't happen, did it?

Because I was saved from the most unlikeliest person that would ever want to save me.

Cartman.

Eric Fatass Cartman.

And as I lay on his couch, his couch which is probably stained in Cheesy Poofs and other undesirable and disgusting armours from his fat flabby body, I slowly realize that I never asked him…never asked him…

Why?

Why did he save me?

I've been asking myself the same question over and over in my head, trying to figure out if there was anything beneficial for him from saving me, going over and over, searching for any plausible reason. But as much as I look into my brain for an answer, again, like before, I come up short, come up with nothing at all and I am back at square one, back at the beginning.

I mean, I could just ask him straight out….just ask him….

But a part of me doesn't want to, as if I'm afraid to hear the answer from him. What could he say that would possible make me be so fearful? Because he wants to kill me himself? Like his never done that hundred million times before when we were kids! But why would he start now? Why would he want to start again? Granted he hates me and everything I stand for, from my Jewish heritage to my red-ginger hair, but as we transitioned into South Park High and into our teens, his become a little less…extreme, I guess. Yeah, he still pulls pranks on me and insults me every opportunity that comes his way, but, to be completely honest with you, Cartman hasn't attempted to kill me in quite some time.

So it just doesn't make sense for him to start killing me again! Unless I'm missing something? This is Cartman I'm talking about, so I wouldn't put anything past him. Oh this is getting me nowhere! There must be a reason. He had the chance to get rid of me, to see me off the edge of the earth and he…

He saved me.

_Was I really worth saving? Did he really save me because I was…am…I'm worth his time? I'm worth all the times his insulted me, pranked me, attempted to kill me? Am I worth it? Am I?_

And just as I feel myself finding the answer to that question, anger starts to boil inside me as I realize…

_I didn't want to be saved!_

_I never asked him to come and save me, did I?_

_I never wanted him to come to my rescue!_

_I don't need him or anyone!_

_I wanted to die!_

_I wanted to die!_

_I wanted to die!_

And because him…because of him….because of fucking him, because of Eric fucking Fatass Cartman, I feel it…the pain, which spreads across my body, my scarred, bruised hands burning, my muscles tightening once more, head thumping yet again, the world spinning, spinning, spinning, always fucking spinning! The darkness all around me and its engulfing me, standing over me, hitting me over and over again and I just…

"Why?" I mumble into the couch. "Why did you save me, fatass?"

_"Just let me fix you…"_

_I thought you was going to_, I think to myself, realizing the pain that spreads to my heart as the reality of that fact settles into my brain. _I thought you would…fix me. But I guess I'm just beyond repairing, huh? How can you fix me, anyway? You're Eric Cartman, after all; all you do is break, not fix. So why was I foolish to believe in you, that there was hope for me yet? I guess I'm partial to blame for that._

It flashes in my head and before I can stop myself, I rationalize it into thought:

_Perhaps that's why you saved me…._

_"Just let me fix you…"_

_Perhaps that's why…._

Oh I really don't know anymore; it's like the world I thought I knew, the world I understood, suddenly tipped on itself and became unclear, twisted, mad, like I was in a reality where everything was its opposite, just like the parallel universe where the evil copies of myself and Stan appeared from.

_I thought I knew him…_

_I thought I understood-_

But before I can finish that thought an urgent shock spreads through body, my eyes snapping open, my head lifting off from the couch, my legs swinging over the side and into a sitting position. I put my gloved hand to my head, keeping my head steady from the spinning world, holding back the urge to throw up there and then. But my health, my sickness, the pain that spread through my body, the reminder that I was still alive, no longer mattered to me, for I had totally and utterly failed to remember the one person in the world that I still understood, the one person I trusted and counted on amongst all.

_Stan…_

_Fuck…_

_How could I forget, Stan?!_

Feeling the need to speak to him straight away, I put my hand to my jeans pocket, feeling the hard device in my pocket. I take my cell phone as quickly as possible, wondering if Stan had sent me a text or tried to phone at all. I'm shocked and horrified to discover that my phone is switched off. But when did I-? And it hits me straight away; yesterday by Stark's Pond, before I jumped into the watery and cold depths that served as my death bed, I turned off my phone, not wanting any distractions from the task at hand; killing myself. Of course, I didn't count on the possibility that someone would actually save me.

Not letting a second be wasted and desperately wondering if Stan was worried sick about me, I press the "On" button on the cold device. It turns on as the LCD screen flashes brightly before me. The world is still spinning as I look down at the screen, but I ignore the pain as the words flash up on my screen:

"_You have 10 new messages"._

I hoped the sickness that coursed through my body had reached my ability to see and was causing my eyes to see things that weren't really there. But I know I'm holding on to false hope as I confirm from rubbing my eyes, the words still there and real.

_Shit._

_I remember now; he asked me to send him a text as he left my house after he so kindly brought me home from school because of my health._

_And this is the way I repay his kindness?_

_Not completing his request and making him worry?_

_I'm terrible. I really am._

As I proceed to read what I assume to be Stan's worrying messages, a new pop-up appears on my screen that halts me in my tracks:

"_**You have three new answer messages."**_

All from Stan I guess. I sigh as I tap on the "Messages" tab. A long list of new messages appear before me…1…2…yup, 6 altogether. Something catches my eye; the sender's name. They aren't all from Stan as I first thought, but from other people, like Ike and-

My heart skips a beat as my eyes stare at the name…

_Mom._

_The monster._

She sent me a text because- that's right; I never returned home last night and she said to me in a dark, cold voice:

"_When school ends, return home, Kyle," _

It was a demand, no negotiations at all and then she said-

_"Don't ever disobey me again, Kyle,"_

And I've done just that, haven't I? I've disobeyed her…again! Who knows what she will do to me this time?! But I do know, don't I? My burns scarred hands a constant reminder of what she's capable of and what she will do if I ever disobey her again, and it will be worse than before, more painful, more pain, more pain, more spinning, the world, agh!

As my heart thumps wildly in my chest, I proceed to read the first text; it's from Stan.

**"Hey dude,**

**U hvnt txtd me yet. How come? U ok? Still sick huh? Reply whn u get da time.**

**Stan"**

2nd Text from Stan:

**"Me again,**

**U sure ur ok dude? I trd calling u but ig ot no answer frm ur cell. Jst send me a rxt to let me know ur ok. Hope u feel better soon.**

**Stan"**

3rd Text from Stan:

**"Kyle,**

**I tried calling ur house phone but no answer. Send me anything. Just let me know ur ok.**

**Stan"**

And that's all the texts from Stan. Just as I predicted…he's worried. And I don't blame him; I would be too if I told Stan to text me and never got anything from him, even by calling his house phone. Fuck, I'm so bad. How could I do that to him? How could I?

Feeling regret and horrible with myself, I tap on to the 4th text I received while I was…inactive. It's my little brother, Ike. Why would he text me for? Well I didn't return home yesterday and he is my brother. Plus, he was locked up with my monster for a mother and I think he just-

I stop again, going over what I just thought in my head, the pain still thumping against my skull, the world still spinning ever more.

The monster was with Ike and I wasn't there to protect him. It's one of the reason's I obey my mother; yes because I am fearful of her actions against me, but I am more afraid of what she would do if she was left alone with my baby brother. I never want Ike to feel the way I do, never want him to feel the pain and anguish at the monsters claws, not wanting to see him begging on the ground for mercy and the monster never giving in to such pitiful requests.

_All I want is to protect him._

With a shaky thumb I tap on the message which opens up, words appearing on the screen:

**"Kyle,**

**Where r u? Moms going crazy. Plz text back."**

2nd Text from Ike:

**"Bro,**

**Pllz txt me back. Moms askin me qstions now and think its my fault ur not back. Jst…come home."**

3rd Text From Ike:

**"Kyle, I'm scared. Plzz come home."**

"_Kyle, I'm scared. Plzz come home."_

"_Kyle, I'm scared. Plzz come home."_

The sentence just replays over and over again in my head like a vinyl stuck and skipping and jumping. Ike was scared, scared of the monster and what it would do to him. What if she had already gotten to him? What if he was covered in bruises and cuts, crying and sobbing by her feet, begging, pleading to her, wondering were I am?

And I wasn't there to protect him. I wasn't there to stop it. I let him down, I let my little brother down and there was nothing I could do to make it up to him.

All I wanted was to protect him, to not feel the same pain as I feel every day.

_I'm sorry Ike. I'm sorry._

"Kahl," I hear someone say by the kitchen doorway. "What are you still doing here? I thought I told you to leave meh house, Jew?" It's _his_ voice, the fattass, the very person who caused all this shit to happen in the first place.

I look to my right and I see Cartman standing there with his arms folded in front of him, a not to pleasant expression plastered on his fucking face, the light from the kitchen window casting his shadow onto the living room floor in front of me. I hate it. I hate him. I hate everything about him!

"Are you death, Jew?!" The fatass shouts, anger pouring out of his mouth, arms now down by his side as he walks a little towards me. "I said leave meh hoy-"

But before he could finish his sentence, I'm already standing and I'm up in front of him, and despite are height difference (His one inch taller than me, dammit!), I square up to him, give him the nastiest frown I can muster, clench my hands tightly on to his red stained t-shirt and pull his head down to my level.

"This is all your fault, fatass," I say in an almost whispered voice, not really knowing why I chose to whisper instead of screaming and shouting right in his face like I really wanted to. But even so, by the taken aback and shock I see in his brown eyes, the messages seem to get across just fine; I'm pissed off and I hate him. "If you hadn't have saved me yesterday….if you had just let me die in that pond….if you had just ignored me and didn't take a glance at me…"

"What-t the f-fuck are you t-talking about?" Cartman asks, his voice shaky with…fear? Yeah…I think his afraid of me. "What d-did I-/"

And then I explode, because I can't take this shit any longer. I can't process the idea of Eric fucking Cartman saving _my_ life, _me_ out of mosses knows how many people on this Earth. I can't fathom why, can't understand at all, and hate being in this position, the curiosity and frustration and the anger and the wanting to know why and the spinning and the spinning and the spinning and...

"Why did you save me?!" I release my grip on his t-shirt causing him to stumble just a bit, catching his balance before he stumbled to the floor. "Why? Why save me?! You hate me, fatass, so what benefits you from saving me, huh?"

It becomes eerily quiet all of a sudden. The noise of furniture moving upstairs echoes through the living room, a woman and a man making passionate love enters my ears and I realize who the voices belong to…

It sounds like Cartman's mom and that guy I met a few minutes ago…David, I think that's his name. I'm not really surprised that I can hear the noises; Cartman's mom was always a whore so hearing scream in pleasure was no news to me.

I look at Cartman and see the expression on his face change to one of confusion to recognition, the wheels in his brain slowly moving and turning. A frown spreads across his face at once.

"Why don't you just leave?" He asks in a dark voice. "Its way to early in the morning for me to deal with your mood swings. And besides, I ordered you to leave meh house and yet he your standing before me! Leave now, jew!"

"Not until you answer my questions, fatass!" I retort back with just as much hate as he, my finger pointing at him. "I've been stressing and arguing with myself a plausible reason as to why you saved me…"

"Here we go!" Cartman said in an exasperated voice, his hands hang up in the air. "More bitchy emotions, more spewage of your pitiful little life…"

"But no matter how hard I try to look," I carry on to say, ignoring Cartman's little interruption. "I come up with nothing. So here I am asking you, why did you save me? Answer me this and I'll gladly leave your grotty little house,"

"Exactly," Cartman says as he walks just a little bit closer to me. "This is _meh_ house and you are standing on my properteh, and therefore in breach of my human- er- rights! I'll sue you jew, don't think I won't!"

"I'm not breaking any laws, Cartman!" I Scream, feeling my cheeks turn red, heating up, my anger soaring through the roof, my heart beating just a little faster than normal…wait-what? "And you can sue me for all I'm worth, but I don't give a fuck because I'm past caring to be quite honest with you. Remember, wanted to kill myself and I was reserved in doing so, so if you think I care what you'll do to me next, trust me, I have other problems much bigger than you. So go and-"

"So why are you standing here then?" Cartman suddenly asks, his voice reverted back to normal, but I am more surprised by the tone of voice he uses; calm and gentle, so unlike his rough and hateful voice he usually uses. "If you have other problems to deal with, why are you in meh house? Why haven't you left yet and gone to deal with them instead?"

_Fucking damnit, he had a point, and a good one at that! He's right though, isn't he? If I care so much more about the other stuff I have to deal with, if I truly care about Stan and my brother Ike and how in the hell I'm gonna face the monster when I get home, why am I standing here, stubborn and un-moving without an answer to a silly little question?_

_Is it that I value Cartman's answer over my other problems, that I care less about them? If I really cared more for Stan and Ike, I would have left ages ago, wouldn't I?_

_So then…why am I so adamant in staying, so stubborn as to receive an answer?_

"I…just want an answer!" I shout, but its already evident to Cartman that I'm not so confident and neither is he so convinced in the answer I supplied him with. He smirks at me and I glower. "It's the truth!" I retort back at his smirking face. "Stan has been all worried about me, not knowing where I've been and all. And Ike, he's afraid of the monster and afraid of-"

And I stop there, dead in my tracks, realizing what I hd just revealed to the one human being I would never in my life want to reveal such a thing to. I told Cartman that Ike is afraid of mom, me referring to her as "monster". Damit, fuck, shit! But wait, there no way Cartman would know that by "monster" I mean my mom, so I should be OK, right?

But as I think this in my head, I could feel my heart-thumping against my chest, feel sweat beds run down my forehead, feel my cheeks reddening all the time. But what's causing me to feel like this? The fact that I'm afraid Cartman would understand what I had just spewed right out, or the fact that the fatass in front of me is nearing my fa-

And before I know it, Cartman is almost right in front of me. Wow! How did he get in front of me so fast? When did he get in front of me anyway? Wait- _why_ is he in front of me?!

"Ike's a little too old to be afraid of monsters isn't he?" Cartman says in a smirky voice, that smirk never leaving his face. "What a little fag,"

"He's only a kid, Cartman!" I shout at his face, angry, but secretly relieved Cartman didn't know what "monster" I was referring to. "He's been afraid all night and I wasn't there to protect him. If you hadn't have saved me I wouldn't be able to see all this shit, but now I have to see it all right in my face!"

"It's not my fault your stupid!" The smirk has vanished from his face, as if it was never there to begin with, and in its wake now lies a heavily frown. "It's not my fault you're a dumb jew!"

"What?!" I asked exasperated, not believing the bullshit which spewed out of-

"You attempted suicide, Kahl!" Cartman screams so loudly that I jump, startled by the force he uses behind his words. "You tried to do yourself in! Jumping in a freezing pond and taking the pussy way out! Fucking hell, I thought you were stronger than this, but I guess I was wrong!"

I'm speechless. I say nothing in reply, cause I know he's right (Again!). I did try to kill myself and I wanted to take the easy way out, cause I know I'm not strong enough, cause I know I can't deal with this shit.

I just stand there, my mouth slightly open, amazed at how angry Cartman's voice sounded, but it wasn't the "I'm pissed off with you" angry, but more of the…upset, passionate angry, you know? And…I'm just amazed he used that kind of angry tone in relation to _me_. Me of all people!

"Is everything OK, sweetie?" A gentle voice sounds from the staircase. I turn and I see Cartman's mom covering her chest with nothing but bed sheets. She was stark naked and didn't even care about it.

"We're fine, mom," Cartman replies, his eyes not looking away from me. "Go back to bed,"

"It's just I heard screaming…"

"I said we're fine, mom!" Cartman shouts. "Just leave us alone!"

"Well, if you say so, hun," And she went back upstairs without another word, a door slamming shut echoed downstairs. Again, we were both alone and hadn't a clue how to react to what he said, what to say, if I could speak that it…

"Cart-man…I…why?" I attempt at completing a full sentence, but I fail and all my jittery voice can muster is broken words. "Why did you save me? Please, just give me an answer,"

He turns his back to me, his shadow falling on top of me as he does so. "You need to leave. Now," He whispers in that dark voice. And a part of me tells me to back down, to leave and to find the others, but another part of me, the part which inclined me to stay and be adamant in what I wanted, told me otherwise.

"Just tell me, Cartman," I say with a little more force. "Tell me and I'll leave at once,"

"No," Was his firm answer. "Just leave and go be with your worried little boyfriend, Stan,"

"Stan is not my boyfriend!" I shout. "He's worried about me as I speak…"

"And yet you're still here!" Cartman exclaimed, turning to face me, his brown eyes wide. He slapped a hand to his forehead. "Fuck, you know? I thought you, being the worried friend and all, would go and be with him already! But I guess you don't love him, huh?"

"I'm not in love with Stan!" I burst out, taking a step forward. "Stop incinerating such a thing, Cartman!"

"Stop denying it, fag!" Cartman screamed as he too stepped closer towards me. I could practically smell Cheesy Poofs off his hot breathe. "It's obvious to the world that you two are gay for each other!"

And I grab hold of his t-shirt again, fists clenched, my forehead against his own sticky one and I feel my heart about to burst at the speed in which it was racing, at how hot my cheeks were getting, how red they must be, how the world was spinning and spinning and spinning and-

"For the last time, fatass!" I scream, my eyes burning into his own brown ones and god do I hate him with a passion, so much that heart was going to…and I remember how I feel in the vision, when I fall onto my knees crying, knowing that the person I love was never going to return to me and I realize I'm Cartman and I'm crying so much- "I'm. Not. In Love. With. Stan!"

"No matter how many times you say that it doesn't make any less true, jewfag!" He screams at me, his breathe lingering all over my face, the smell of KFC hot on his clothes and his arms look so strong, like the strong arms which held me tight and protected me from the monster…

"Why did you save me?!" I ask again, not taking "No," as an answer. "Come on, answer me! Let's put this riddle to rest! Just answer me fatass and I'll leave you, heck, I'll never speak to you as long as I live if you answer me. I'll be glad to do so. Just answer me you fat piece of-"

Nothing prepared me for this. Nothing in the whole world prepared me for what was happening to me right now…

Cartman, his lips warm and strong kissing my own, his hands holding tightly onto my face.

And at that exact moment, the world stopped spinning and I was at peace, even if it was only for a while.

And it was all because of him…

- TO BE CONTINUED -

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**A/N:**

**Yeah, I'm gonna leave it right there, hanging and everything! Lol**

**So mean of me! *Hits hand for being naughty*. No Christmas presents for me this year I guess. Lol**

**The kiss. The first kiss is here peeps! Yay! I know, I'm just as surprised as you are. Wasn't really planned for it to happen so soon, but I'm not complaining cause now things can really get moving! :)**

**OK, so writing this chapter, at the beginning wasn't to easy; didn't know if I wanted Kyle to leave Cartman's house or not; I choose for him to stay cause I thought more interaction could happen between he and Cartman, and boy was it the right decision. I wanted Kyle to find out that he had so many texts from his Stan and his brother Ike, which in turned made him guilty for not being there and almost killing himself.**

**Second part of the chapter was a lot easier; structure was better and I though the writing was, all round, better than the first part (But that's just me). I also like the interaction between Cartman and Kyle; hopefully it was all in character for you. When Cartman enters the room, Kyle finally has a opponent to push all of his guilt, pain and anger towards. Of course, he also asks why Cartman saved him which Cartman oh so in characteristically refuses to tell him anything. **

**And then, with everything they know, about the other possibly dying, Cartman goes in for the kill. Lol.**

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**LINKS:**

**Go and watch my "Les Miserables Trail – South Park Style/Re-Cut" Video which I worked so hard on:**

** www. youtube dot com watch?v=nJ6Sw4elWXQ (Remove gaps!)**

**Please leave a comment, rate, fav and subscribe. Thanks! :)**

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**Next chapter…hmm…well, I don't know really. Aftermath of first kiss! (Subject to change).**

**Don't want to be left hanging over Christmas? Wanna know what happens next (I do too!), well leave me a review to help boost my confidence and keep me reassured that you want more. Thank you. :)**

**Hope you all have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! :)**

**See ya on the other side.**

**~mpkio2~**


	15. Just Give Me A Reason

**A/N:**

**Guess whose back? Back again. Yeah I'm back. Tell yo friends!**

**Sorry, but I couldn't resist. The opportunity was right there! :p**

**Just like to say a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed/faved/alerted this story since the last update. I just wanna express how I appreciate all of the positive feedback you guys keep posting. I appreciate it dearly. :)**

**Yeah peeps, I'm back with another chapter for you all to read. Sorry you've had to wait…what?...Almost seven months for this thing. Really? Jesus. Well I have a good excuse! "What is it this time?" You ask? The usual really; university assignments and just blatant laziness. Hey I'm only human!**

**There is good news though. After completely all assignments and completing a 10,000 word dissertation (Which I worked my ass off doing, may I add,) I have finally completed my three year university course. Yay! Now I have more responsibilities and have to look for a job! Oh….well that's crap. :(**

**Anyway, I point is, I have more free time to write my fanfics, which means more chapters for you guys. But please don't go away thinking I'll be updating every single day! I'm just letting you all know that I may be updating my stories a lot more frequently than ever 6 months as it has been for the past 2 years now. Look out for that!**

**We left off with Cartman kissing Kyle square on the lips! I know, I'm just as excited as you. The first kiss!**

**Let's see how they react…**

**Enjoy! :)**

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**Disclaimer and Warning Note:**

**ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC STORY DO NOT BELONG TO MYSELF OR ANY OTHER ORGAINISATION THAT I MAY BELONG TO. THE WRITING STYLE AND IDEAS OF THIS FANFIC ARE...CRAP. THE FOLLOWING FANFIC CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND SOME MALExMALE AND DUE TO IT'S CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...THAT MEANS YOU!**

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"**Just give me a reason to keep my heart beating…"**

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**I'll Try To Fix You  
Written by mpkio2**

**Chapter 15  
Just Give Me A Reason**

**Cartman's Perspective**

It's his fault I'm doing this, his fault I'm acting this way, why I'm so pissed off, why I can't stand him, how I hate everything about him; from his green hat, to his hazel eyes, to his slender figure, his smooth skin against my sweaty hands, how he whimpers at my touch, how firm his lips feel on mine and-

_WHAT THE FUCK AM I THINKING?!_

I hate Kahl! Yeah! Like I was saying, I hate everything about him, everything! You got that, bitch?! I hate him, nothing more, nothing less! In fact, I hate him with a passion, a passion so strong that, at times, I feel as though my heart would burst just thinking of him, of how he knows everything, how he smiles at his friends and has he's red jewy hair, with his gay orange coat and his green jewy hat and how he has a perfect family, a perfect life and how he hasn't a problem in the world and how much he has and….how you can't see how fucking perfect you are, you fucking jewrat! God, how I hate you!

_If you hate him so much, why are your lips pressed firmly against his?_

My eyes snap open upon hearing the voice in my head, because as much as I wanted to avoid answering that question, I knew what had asked was valid and true. If I hated him so much why am I-?

_Wait- WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?!_

Why am I-? Why am I? Fuck. This isn't what it looks like! You've got it all wrong! I- he- he must have put some sort of Jew curse on me…yeah, that's it! It's like I said before; this is all his fault, not mine. I didn't act because I wanted to, because I had the biggest urge to….because I wanted to feel him against and….he just woldn.t shut up! Just wouldn't shut the fuck about, constantly whining in that little girly voice of his "Why did you save me? Tell me why! Just tell me!"

How else was I gonna shut him up?! How else was he gonna leave it be and fuck off home and be with him perfect family and his little boyfriend, Stan? How else was I gonna make him leave meh house?! Huh? You tell me bitch! Tell me how and I would have done it, if I hadn't of seen any other alternative. It was the only way, the only was he would leave me be…the only way…

…_he would understand._

I see his eyes staring into mine, a shocked expression on his face, his eyes asking me a million questions at once. His body feels frozen under my touch, unmoving, rooted to the spot, as if afraid. Actually to say he was "shocked" would be an understatement. He appeared to be beyond that…shit…

And I feel it; a stab to my chest. What the fuck is this? What's this…feeling…? No….No I don't feel depressed nor do I feel saddened that he does not respond in the same manner, that his actions don't recuperate my own. I just wished he reacted in some sort of form! Anything! Scream, shout at me at least like you always do, jew! Scream "What the fuck are you doing, Cartman!?", push me, punch me, kick me in the balls, anything!

_Anything will do!_

_Just….not this._

_Not silence._

_Not loneliness._

_Kahl…please…_

And as if he heard my thoughts which cried out to him, which desperately wanted to hold on to him and never let go, his eyes which appeared shocked, distant, glazed over like a statue, now dazzled with a light of recognition. His eyes slowly close and I feel his lips press firmly on mine, returning the kiss I gave to him, pushing harder against mine, almost desperately wanting more, intensifying all the while.

A feeling I've never experienced spreads throughout my entire body. Fuck. It felt good, pleasure washing all over, my fingers tingling with a weird sensation, my heart skipping a beat every once in a while, the blood in my body circulating in faster pace than normal, like an adrenaline drive you get after going on a ride at Fun Land or something. It's the same feeling I felt only a few moments ago, but doubled, no…tripled the intensity.

_What the fuck is this?_

_Why am I feeling this?_

_Why now?_

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

I'm in bliss. My head has never felt so…at ease, so calm and peaceful, my thoughts no longer cloudy and murky, but free and open, every worry and anxiety I may have been feeling, now non-existent, as if I hadn't any to begin with.

_Why?_

_Why this…?_

_Why…Kahl…?_

_Why-?_

I no longer feel the Jew's lips against mine and before I can open my eyes to see what the problem is, I feel a pain spread right through my left cheek, the sheer force of it sending me down, my ass hitting the floor beneath me.

I put a hand to my, what I believe to be a, red sore cheek as I look up at the person, the cause of my pain; Kahl, who stands above me, his right hand still clenched out in front of him, an outraged, hateful expression plastered on his face.

"Kahl!" I scream at him. "What the fuck?!"

"That's what I wanna ask you, fattass!" He shouts back in a just as outraged voice. "What the fuck was that? Why did you kiss me?!"

I slowly stand on my feet, rubbing my cheek as I do so, trying to sooth the pain that still lay on my skin. I then proceed to brush myself down, wiping off any dirt and food crumbs which stuck to my clothes when I hit the floor.

"I thought you would understand," I say in a dark voice, as I glare into Kyle's hate filled eyes. "Looks as though I was wrong,"

A momentary silence fills the room, the noises of meh mom and David fucking upstairs can still be heard even from down here. God, I wish they would finish up already; this situation is already fucking awkward enough without them making that racket up there. Because it is and there's no point in denying it. I slowly let out sigh.

"What the fuck are you talking about, fatass?" I hear Kahl's angry voice breaking the silence that lingers between us. "I don't understand get you; I never have, so I don't see why you would think I would-" And just as quickly his voice fills the room, it disappears all too soon.

"Y-you did that…just to make me shut up, didn't you?" Kyle stutters, his voice somewhat levelled in volume and anger. "You did that…you kissed me…so you wouldn't have to answer my question,"

I don't deny it, though neither do I confirm it to be true. I just stare at him as my finger points in the direction of my front door. "Just leave meh house, Kahl. Just leave,"

_No response, nothing. Just like before…just like when I kissed-_

"Fine," He mumbles in a low voice, his head hanging to the floor, his face unreadable. "Have it your way. You win,"

_I…win…?_

_What the-?_

"I give up on you," And to my astonishment, the jew turns and slowly walks to my front door, his feet trudging along the carpet as he does so, his footsteps almost echoing around the dark room, shadows hovering here and there, the sun light trying its hardest to enter through the window curtains.

"I really thought that you…that just maybe…"

And as he moves towards my front door, all I can feel is my heart as it escalates in rhythm, as it thumps against my ribcage, faster and faster, and I realize then and there the terrible truth, the truth I want to ignore, to wish I never acknowledged its existence.

But it's too late for that.

"Maybe you cared…"

It's too late to ignore it, for how do you ignore something that's screaming right at your face, hitting you again and again and again?

You can't. Trust me; I know from first-hand experience…from David's lustful hands…from my mom's total lack of love for me…

"What…a fool I was to believe that…"

_Don't go…jew…don't go…_

But my lips wouldn't move, my voice wouldn't reach him even if I tried…

"I… h-hate you," It was barely audible, but a whisper, but I heard it and it reached my ears as if he had screamed it, as if the words hit me in the core of my being, his words sounding as though that echoed against the walls.

The sun light enters through the front door, dazzling bright. Kyle's shadow falls onto my floor, his back facing me, just standing there, leaving me in the darkness with nothing but…myself…alone…

_Don't go, jew!_

_Don't you fucking leave me now!_

_Not now!_

But my body wouldn't allow me to express what I wanted to tell him, what I desperately needed to tell him. He just slammed the door behind him and he was gone.

"I-I hate you too, you-you- F-FUCKING JEW!" I scream at the front door because no-one else would listen to me anyway, no-one was with me, so why not? Why not scream at the door? Why not scream all my anger and hatred at nothing in particular?! Why not? Why fucking not?!

_Because I have no-one._

_Because I'm alone._

_Because…I…love-_

A wet substance hits my hand. I look up at the ceiling, thinking a pipe had burst or something, but I'm surprised to see nothing at all; just the plain old ceiling.

"Where the fuck-?" And I feel another one hit my red shirt, and another one hits my left hand, another one, and another one and-

My eyes.

The source of the drops…it's my eyes…

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**Kyle's Perspective**

I assume it must have been raining last night, for the snow which covered streets the day before, now were replaced with wet puddles. House rooftops and car windows glistened with rain drops that scattered down the panes, like little rivers that flowed endlessly and constantly…like tear drops that cascaded from one's face…

I still feel like shit. It feels as though my headache has increased in intensity, my head pounding as strongly and a s fierce as ever, the pain increasing tenfold as my feet hit the concrete ground below, the world still spinning and spinning. My chest feel congested as fuck, my nose is stuffed up with God knows what gunk. All in all, if anything, I feel worse than how I felt when I woke up. Fuck this.

This is all his fault, I grumble to myself as my feet struggle to drag me down the deserted sidewalk. If he hadn't of said all that shit to me….if he hadn't of aggravated and pissed me off so much….if he hadn't confused me when he-

I my feet stop in their attempt of carrying me forward. I feel heat rising within my wrapped up coat, my chest starting to sweat, the heat slowly rising to my cheeks – I assume a small blush lay present there. But why? Why the fuck am I starting to sweat? Why I do I feel so hot? Why is my heart beating so rapidly against my clothes?

I look up hoping anyone could answer the thousands of questions that clouded and fogged up my brain and heart. The sun greeted me with both its ray and a valid answer to at least one of my questions; it's hot. Yeah, that's it; it's just a hot day! I mean, it rained last night and, a s a consequence, washed away the snow covered town of South Park, leaving the air humid and nowhere as near freezing cold as it were yesterday. It all made sense…well, that's what I keep telling myself anyway.

Besides, I'm sick. The heating of my body is probably just a symptom to this cold I have. Yeah, I just have a fever! That's it! Just the hot weather and a fever; nothing more and nothing less.

But as much as I convince myself this to be the answer, a tingling voice at the back of my head told me otherwise. _Oh is it?_, the voice asked in mock. _Are you quiet certain about that?_

Of course I am, I reply in my head in a confident voice. _What else could it be?_

_I think you and I both know what it is….what it means, _I say in return, for how do you respond to….that?!. _Come on, Kyle. You're a smart boy. You know exactly what it means, but you find it so ridiculous to even fathom the meanings. In short, you're in denial._

_In denial…o-of what?, _I retort in a hesitant voice, almost afraid to hear the answer which followed, afraid of what my….consciousness? Psyche? I'm still not entirely sure of what to label the voice… _I'm not denying any-_

_You can't lie to me, Kyle, _The voice replied all too quickly, interrupting me midway speaking. _I'm you after all. What you deny is right in front of you; your just too blind to see…_

"I'm not denying anything!" I shout out in frustration. "I'm not in denial of anything! I have no idea what you're talking about!"

I'm surprised to hear nothing in response; as if the voice trotted away back to once it came from. But I wanted it to speak….needed it to speak. What did it mean? _'What your denying is right in front of you'_? I needed answers!

I take a breath, trying to steady my breathing as best I could, readying myself to speak once more.

"K-Kyle?" A soft concerned voice calls my name from behind me. "A-Are you alright?"

"Ah!" I scream startled, not expecting anyone to be standing behind me. I turn around and my eyes lock into the clear crystal blue eyes of… "Butters? Jesus, you scared me half to death!"

"Oh, I'm awful sorry Kyle," Butters apologized with big eyes. "I didn.t mean to scare you or nuthin'. I just…saw you and…" Butters trailed off as his voice turned down in volume.

"I'm OK," I said in a reassuring tone, picking up on Butter's fidgety demeanour, how his eyes looked at me with much concern. "I was just…thinking aloud…" Like Butters, I find my voice trailing off into nothingness, feeling embarrassed at the prospect of someone over hearing, what I presumed to be, a private conversation with…my psyche? Yeah, I'm gonna settle by labelling the voice as my 'Psyche'.

A tense silence lingers between us. An expression of concern greets me on Butter's face, his eyes staring at me with the same emotion, but intensified somewhat. I avert my eyes from his face, no longer wanting to see it, no longer could I bare to handle the fact that still, in this world of pain, someone still cares for me. And then I realize how stupid I've been. How could I forget? Of course people still care for me, of course people still wanted me.

All the evidence I ever needed were in the form of text messages and call messages on my cell phone…

Stan…

Ike…

You both still need me, don't you?

"So, you heading for the school bus stop?" I ask Butters, breaking the silence that strained in the air, steering the conversation into an entirely different route, averting and trying to avoid any Butters may have a desire to ask me, specifically, why I'm standing outside to my arch-nemesis's house.

"Er…well, I will be. I'm just waiting for Eric," Butters explains to me in his jittery nervous voice, fumbling with his hands as he does so, his eyes glancing to Cartman's house. He looks back at me quickly though and I see a glint in his eyes, a curious glint, the one thing I was worried he would realize, the one thing that would start to form in his mind…

"Wh-what are you doing here, Kyle?"

_Shit. Now what do I say? 'Oh nothing, Butters. I attempted suicide yesterday evening by throwing myself into Starks Pond, but then Eric fucking Cartman saved me, brought me to his house, belittled me and insulted me both verbally and physically and then chucked me out the next day. And here I am standing in front of you. Yeah, nothing much,"? There's no way in hell I'm gonna tell Butters that! He doesn't need to know it. And besides, he wouldn't believe me even if I told him._

But his eyes started deep into my own, his clear blue gentle eyes, soothing e, almost telling me: "It's OK. You can tell me anything," Fuck you Butters and your gentle and assuring disposition!

"I…just wanted to take a morning walk," I pang of guilt hits me in the chest as the lie fumbles out of my mouth and smacks Butters in the face. "It….makes me feel better, y'know? Nothing like the fresh morning air to begin the day with…" I hate mornings, you already know that. Everyday is the same, remember?

"Oh jeewiz, Kyle! That's an awful optimistic way of looking at the new day!" Butters says in a cheerful bright voice, a small smile spreading across his face, the guilt in my heart intensifying upon hearing his voice, seeing his smile grow. God damn it! "I do the same thing too! It always makes the day that much better!"

Despite the guilt which tightened around my heart, and the heat which increased my body temperature, and the spinning and spinning of the world, and my blocked nose, and the congestion I felt in my lungs, I smiled at Butter's cheerful optimism. I knew his happiness was the result from my own lie, but it was nice to see that there was still some happiness left in this world.

"It does," I mumble, looking down.

"But…" _And here it comes…_

"You don't look to good, Kyle," I hear him say in that concerned jittery voice of his. "Your not ill or nuttin' are ya? I mean, I saw you speaking to yourself and-"

Shit. Butters saw me. He must think I'm fucking insane. If my psyche ever talks to me again, I'm gonna give it a real hard bashing. But the majority of my brain wasn't forming plans in order to punish my psyche; it was running a thousand questions, all paranoid and concerned with what in the hell Butters had overhead; How much did Butters hear? Did he hear all of it? Did he stand there and watch on as I argued with myself?

I feel my cheeks rising in heat again, but not due to the fever or heat…

"Y-you know, Kyle," I hear Butters speak, his hesitant voice pulling me out of my thoughts and back to reality. "I talk to myself as well…"

"Not helping Butters," I simply say in a sigh, looking anywhere but at the blonde teen. "Let's just drop it, OK?"

"Oh. Well, jeewiz, Kyle," I hear the boy say in that nervous, jittery voice of his. "I-I don't want ya to feel uncomfortable or nuthin'. I just wanted to make you feel less…embarrassed is all. Do you have a little voice in your head too? I hear it all the time – when I'm eating, sitting in class while teacher talks on and on, as I'm falling asleep. In fact only this morning, it told me-"

"OK, I think I get the picture, Butters," I say quickly, interrupting the blonde before he tells me anything I regret to hear; what sort of stuff goes on in Butters mind, only I can imagine to be nothing but bunnies and candy canes, judging by the always cheery attitude the boy radiates "I appreciate you trying to comfort me and all, but I'm OK, really," It was a lie and I hoped to god Butters would look past the, assume to be, revolting and unhealthy state my face possess.

"Oh," He says with a little frown covering his lips. "OK….if you're really sure…"

"I am," I say quickly, not giving him any room to argue. "I better get going now. See ya later, Butters,"

"At school?" He asks, a frown still plastered on his lips, his big blue eyes filled with concern. Damn! Even Butters isn't fooled by lame acting!

"Of course at school," I say with a little aggravation in my voice, not meaning it for it to slip through. "God damn it, Butters! I'm fine, alright? Just leave it, OK?" I say, not intending for my voice to come out hard and harsh. An expression of both hurt and surprise washes over Butters face, another pang of guilt hitting me again. "I'm fine," I mumble in a gentle voice. "I'll…see you at school, OK?"

I slowly turn around and make my way down the street in the direction of my house, without sating goodbye to Butters, nor waiting to hear his reply, though I'm sure I heard him mumble "OK, bye Kyle," I'm not entirely sure; I could have imagined it, my brain could just be playing tricks on me now. Fuck, this cold is really affecting me.

As my feet drag me down the street as best as they could, I realize that my eyesight is start to blur, that my forehead is starting to burn, that my nose starts to bleed out snot. And as I reach the Johnson's house, I feel something vibrate in my coat pocket.

I reach down and take out my phone. I look upon the LCD screen and with blurred vision, I'm able to make out the face of my best friend, Stan. He's ringing me. He's concerned. He cares…

I have to answer. I can't ignore him any longer than I already have. I've put him through so much, worrying about me and trying to call me and sending me text messages to make sure I'm OK or where I am and if I'm still alive. But….can I tell him the truth? Can I look him in the eye and tell him: "Hey Stan, I almost killed myself yesterday after you helped walk me home from school and treated me like such a caring, concerned friend. But it's OK; I just didn't answer any of your phone messages or text messages because one Eric Cartman was nursing me…no….looking after me while I was in no healthy condition…and still am might I add! But everything's fine; don't worry,"

I can't. I know it's a betrayal of his trust and I know how much he cares for me, but…how will he react and…will he understand? I don't think so…no, he won't. But he's bound to sense something isn't right; he's my best friend and he'll be able to pick up on my terrible health and clouded thoughts.

_Fuck this._

I take a deep sigh as I settle on my decision and press the "Answer" button with a thumb. I put the speaker to my ear and I hear a familiar worried voice on the other end…

"Kyle?! Dude, is that you?! Where have you been?! I've been trying what feels like a hundred times trying to contact you! Why didn't you answer me? I got not one reply! Did you run out of credit or something?...Kyle, are you there?! Say something!"

I feel like shit, the worst friend ever. It was evidential in Stan's voice of how much crap I put him through. My feet stop dragging me across the hard concrete sidewalk, my head lowering as the world continues to spin…

I want to sleep….

"I'm sorry, Stan," I mumble in a low voice. "Sorry for everything I put you through, dude. I really am…"

There's a momentary silence on the other end… "What's going on, dude?" His voice comes out low and serious. "Where have you been? I tried phoning your house, but no one answered…"

"You don't have to worry about me, Stan," My voice comes out as low and serious as his. "I'm fine," But as I finish that sentence, a cough rises up in my throat. I stifle it at the last second, keeping it down.

"Your still sick, aren't ya?"

Damn, I hoped he wouldn't notice. Well, now that he knows…

"Yeah," I sigh deeply, feeling my chest tighten with sickness. "But don't worry; I'm still coming to school,"

"What?!" Stan shouts so loudly that I instantly pull my hand away from my ear, the cell phone placed firmly in my hand. After a second or two, when I was ensured that Stan had finished his shouting, raving and protesting, I put the cell back to my hear and spoke.

"I know you worry about me and I appreciate everything you do for me, dude," Stan says nothing in response. "But you shouldn't have to cause I'm perfectly fine. Everything is fine, OK? So there's no need for you to go around worrying about me every single second of the day…"

Why am I saying all this to him? He deserves to know the truth! I'm lying right in his face; everything I say to him is a slap to our friendship. If I value him so much as a friend, as so one to turn to, then…why? Why haven't I opened up to him? Why don't I tell him?

_Because I think I'm protecting him_, is the straight forward answer. I don't want to hurt him….I don't want him to get all caught up in my shit. I don't want him to worry for me….even though he should.

"-so don't tell me I shouldn't worry about you!" Stan's angry voice on the other end pulls me out of my thoughts and back to reality. Shit. I didn't listen to a word he said! "I'd rather you be well at home, than to be dying in school. You looked awful yesterday afternoon, dude, so…." Stan's voice trails off into nothingness.

_He cares for me_, I think in comfort, but with a twinge of anxiety.

"I'll be at the bust stop soon," I mutter into my cell. "I just need to go home and-"

"You're not listening to me, dude!" Stan shots into my ear. "You need to get some rest. Where are you, anyway? No, scratch that…where have you been? Your sick and your not at home/ Where did you go…why would you leave your house? Why didn't you tell-?"

"Because I didn't I want to!" As soon as the words escape my mouth, I regret every giving them freedom. What did I just say….shout?! Fuck. I didn't mean to sound so….harsh, angry. Stan didn't deserve that. He's only worried for me, just as a friend would be. And I shout at him.

"You don't have to tell me everything, y'know?" On the surface, Stan's voice sounds calm and gentle, but beneath, I can tell his upset and hurt. "You wanna keep stuff to yourself, fine. But…I'm your friend…Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

A cough escapes my mouth and it almost buckles my body to the ground. "I'll speak to you later, Stan. I don't have time for this…"

"I never knew you felt so little of our friendship," Stan mutters in a controlled angry and upset voice.

"That's not what I'm saying and you know it!" I cough some more.

"Yes it is!" He snaps back. "You don't wanna speak to me at all! You don't wanna answer any of my questions!"

"You, you, you! I'm sorry Stan, but the world doesn't revolve in seeing to your every want and need," I could tell my tone was becoming more harsher, that some of my words were uncalled for, that my anger and hurt was transforming into something more.

"All I've been thinking about for the past few months is you!" I pull my hand away from my ear, yet again, but not so much due to the harsh volume in what Stan said, but more to the fact in how he said it. I put my cell back to my ear and I hear a stunned silence on the other end.

"What?" I asked in a confused voice. "Why have you been worrying about me…Stan?"

But I get nothing. Just a blank silence.

"Stan? Stan, are you there? Answer me, dude!"

I hear a click on the other end, signalling that Stan had hung up. I click on Stan's name in my phones directory but I'm told that he has his cell phone switched off and cannot answer my call. Not being able to contact Stan, I put my cell back into my jeans pocket and slowly continue my journey down the deserted sidewalk, the sudden increase in thoughts and questions not helping decreasing the painful headache that thumped and made the world spin.

I feel conflicted towards Stan. On the one hand, I feel comforted and cared for in the fact that he worries so much for me, that he cares for me so much, but on the other hand, I feel angry in the way he used our friendship as a means for me to…spill my heart out onto him and to reveal everything I've been going through. It's as I told him; I didn't tell him because I didn't want to! But…I know he deserves to know. He was right about one thing, however. We're friends…and he should at least know; if anything at least, he deserves that.

But what did he mean by that last sentence? What was it again? _"All I've been thinking about for the past few months is you," _What the hell does that mean? Why would he be thinking of me? I don't get it…

As much as my curiosity was strong and stubborn, I had to end my struggle in making sense of Stan's outburst, the pain in my head becoming so unbearable to the point that I almost fall to the ground in pain. Through all the thinking, wondering and confusion that battled on in my head, I realize as I look up that I'm standing in front of a brown door to someone's house, standing on step. I quickly read the number labelled on the door and recognize the brown door being my own.

I fumble my hand to my jeans pockets to grab my keys, but soon realizing that I didn't bring them with me. Fuck. I wanted to sneak to my house undetected but anyone, namely my mother, but I guess I have no other…

And then it hits me; an idea; my bedroom window. I can sneak in through my bedroom window. But the monster may be expecting that. Shit. I need to see Ike. I need to know he's OK. He was scared, alone with the monster…I wasn't there for him and I let him down. I couldn't protect him…

"K-Kyle?" A quiet voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I look down and my eyes fall upon a nine year old boy with short black hair, green eyes looking up at me with shock and…bitterness? "W-where were you?"

"Ike," Although I was overjoyed to see Ike in one piece, healthy and well, the sickness that plagued my body ran so deep now that it was affecting my energy. "Are you OK?" I cough.

My brother looks down at his feet. "I'm fine," he mumbles, but I'm not convinced he is. "But what happened to you, Kyle? Is your cell dead?"

"I…I got…held up at a friend's house and….lost the time and…the storm was too…I'm sorry Ike," My head becomes limp and I look to the floor, like Ike, with clouded vision. "I'm sorry I wasn't-"

"I don't want to hear it, Kyle," My voice is crushed into smitherings by Ike's cold, quiet tone. "I don't want to hear your excuses,"

"She didn't hurt you…did she?" Because if anything at least, I had to know, had to let my worrying thoughts and anxious heart be put at ease.

"Unlike yours, my scars and bruises can't be seen on my skin," Ike simply answers and with that said, before I realize he is gone in front of me, he is already walking down the pathway.

I turn and see him meeting his friend Fillmore on the sidewalk. Fillmore, he notices me, gives me a quick wave hello. My brother however, does nothing; not even to turn around and glare at me. He just walks down the sidewalk with Fillmore by his side, without another acknowledgment to me.

_What have I done?_

"I'm sorry…Ike,"

"Sorry? Your sorry, Kyle? Are you really, bubulah?"

And then everything falls apart…

**- TO BE CONTINUED-**

* * *

**A/N:**

**Finally, it's done at last.**

**I don't if it's noticeable, but I ran into a lot of trouble while writing this chapter. There's was many different directions this chapter could have gone down, but as writing I chopped and changed throughout, indecisive and unsure on the direction in where I wanted the story to lead to. I literally had to re-write and edit a big chunk of this chapter and it was, for some reason, difficult for me to keep on track on what was occurring. **

**For that reason (And because I've been lazy,), this chapter has been entirely delayed in releasing.**

**Oh well, it's done now and I'm happy in how it came out. You might have realized how Kyle's perspective has occupied the majority of this chapter instead of Cartman's. Yeah, that was unintentional on my part, but please be ensured that the story will follow Cartman's perspective much more in the next chapter to come.**

**Not an awful lot happened in this chapter (In terms of shipping between Kyle and Cartman that is,) but you the readers have observed how Kyle's sickness is getting worse and worse, how he is pushing away any help that comes his way, namely Butters and even his best friend Stan. And it's not gonna get any better for Kyle now that his monster of a mother has seen him.**

**Poor Ike. I felt so sorry for him while writing that part. *Hugs him***

**For those who want more KylexCartman interaction, please be patient; it's coming soon. **

**Please leave me a review to keep me motivated and ensure that you are still reading even after a long break in updating. Thank you advance. :)**

**See ya next update, peeps!**


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